Yellow Brick Road
by chaletian
Summary: PLEASE review! Hooray! Finished! Wolfram & Hart get Faith out of prison but she has to kill Angel. Does Wesley have the chance to become the watcher he never was?
1. Dancing to the Piper

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter One - Dancing to the Piper**

Faith was out of prison. 

She'd spent eighteen months of her life locked up in an LA penitentiary, and two days ago she had been released on parole. And she didn't know why. People were paroled every day, but not when they'd served a measly eighteen months for a conviction of murder, assault, and pretty much every other crime involving personal violence. They'd given her her clothes, an envelope of cash, and the address of her parole officer - check in every day, or else. So she'd gone to some crummy motel, and stayed there, only going out every evening at six o'clock to visit the parole office, a nasty little man with the unlikely name, Hunter Kendrick. No one knew she was out. 

Then she received the visit, and realised what the deal was. 

It was a Wednesday, warm and muggy in the motel room, and Faith was stretched out on the bed idly watching daytime TV and trying not to think too much. A knock sounded on the door, and instinctively she leapt up, grabbing the knife off the bedside table. It was always better to be prepared - not that Faith's motives were really boy scout material. Whoever was at the door wasn't waiting for an answer, and it opened, to reveal an elegantly clothes woman. She was familiar and it took Faith a moment to place her. 

"The lawyer chick," she drawled, not missing the two hunks of muscle standing behind the lawyer, like a couple of broody hens guarding their only offspring. 

"It's nice to see you again, Faith," Lilah replied, holding out her hand, professional as ever, only to withdraw it as Faith made no move to take it. "Though I imagined you would manage to do better for yourself than this," and she dismissed the dubious delights of the motel room with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. Faith's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

"Let's just drop the bullshit already. What do you want?" A gleam of appreciation showed on Lilah's face, just for a moment. 

"We made an agreement, as you may remember. Wolfram & Hart would like the terms of that agreement to be fulfilled." Faith stared at her. 

"You want me to kill Angel? Don't tell me - it slipped your notice that I obviously decided not to." 

"Faith, I understand that Angel was trying to…help you. But, let's face it, his help got you in prison. Our help got you out. I think it's time you looked at what's best for you, don't you?" 

"Fuck you, lady. And fuck your stupid company. I'm not gonna kill Angel." 

"If you refuse to fulfill the terms of our agreement, Wolfram & Hart will have no alternative but to arrange for your return to prison. Faith, work with us, and we can protect you. We can _pay_ you, as you may recall. And if you are so concerned with Angel, if the two of you are so close, why are you staying in the motel from Hell instead of Angel's hotel? 

"Ask yourself who your friends really are, Faith." 


	2. Filing Theory 101

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Two - Filing Theory 101**

And ten minutes later, Faith had agreed. She was out of jail because of Wolfram & Hart, and they could pay her, and pay her well. Angel had promised to help her, to help make the darkness go away, and it hadn't. She had been left with it 24/7, stuck in a cell, wearing bright orange. Left with nightmares and demons and guilt, and the unstoppable desire to hurt, to lash out. A funny look from one of the other girls, or the warden, and she had to clench her fists, bite her lip till the metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth. And here was the opportunity to give in, go back to what was easy, and felt good. 

And maybe, just maybe, if she immersed herself in enough blood, if she inflicted enough pain, all the voices in the night, and the unstoppable ache in her chest would disappear. 

*** *** *** 

Angel Investigations was not a place of calm. Or order. Or anything approaching reliable organisation, which is why, on Thursday morning, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, head honcho, was on his knees in front of the filing cabinet trying to find a file about a case of possession by a Phonak demon. It wasn't under P. The possessee had been a young girl by the name of Emily Andrews, but it wasn't under E or A. Cordelia's filing system was, as she liked to put it, perfectly logical. Logical, that is, for someone who regarded the alphabet as an inconvenience. He advanced this theory as he rummaged through F. 

"Wesley! Who looks up P when looking for a large orange demon? Is P the first thing you think of? No, you think about that large tentacles and the brain sucking." 

"T?" he ventured. 

"B," came the reply. "For the whole brain sucking thing. It stands out." 

"It's not in B," Wesley responded irritably, getting up and shooting Cordelia an unpleasant look. She looked up from the magazine she was perusing, and shrugged. 

"Try O. Or maybe S - that was the really smelly one, right?" Wesley took a deep breath, and tried to think patient thoughts. 

"Cordelia. Much as I appreciate your…creative approach to filing, I think it a better method could be found than by cataloguing cases by the personal characteristics of the demon involved." 

"You know, Wes may have a point." Angel, looking slightly harried with a restless Connor in his arms, came down the staircase, and leaned over the front desk. There were times when he almost resented Wesley's position as their leader, but at times such as this - and Angel had been well versed in the joys of looking for a case about a Mirwaur demon only to find it under G for gross - the job was all Wesley's. 

Cordelia took Connor, and raised her eyebrows at Angel, who backed off quickly. He wasn't going to piss off Cordy unless it was strictly necessary - and this fight was Wesley's. 

"Wes, you've just got to start thinking outside the box." 

"Outside the box? Cordelia, filing, traditionally, goes _in_ the box. It's right in the middle of the box. In alphabetical order." 

"My filing is alphabetical!" In the ensuing sniping, nobody heard the door swing open. Nobody heard the faint snick as a bolt slid into place in a crossbow. Nobody heard anything until she spoke. 

"Gee, Wes, and there was me thinking you'd managed to get that stake _out_ of your ass." 


	3. Who Has the Crossbow?

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

*** *** *** 

**Who Has the Crossbow?**

A still silence drifted over the hotel foyer, and Wesley, bizarrely, found time to note that the spider plant on top of the bookcase needed watering as he turned to face the slayer. He also saw Angel and Cordelia turn, the latter holding the baby in her arms close, an expression of fear and…well, general snootiness, flitting across her face. 

"Faith." Angel, master of the obvious, stepped towards the girl…woman standing before him, cocky attitude firmly in position, crossbow pointing at his heart. Her finger tensed, and he halted, his hands raising instinctively. "I'm not going to hurt you." A laugh erupted from the slayer, and genuine amusement seemed to flash in her eyes. 

"Okay, who has the crossbow here?" 

"So, Faith, nice to see you. Why aren't you in prison? Preferably being beaten up." Tact and Cordelia, Wesley recalled, had never been close friends. 

"Well, C, looks like they let me out. Tough one to figure out, I know." 

"I'll say," murmured Cordelia. 

"You know, C, you're looking a whole lot braver over there than when I knocked you out." 

"Bite me, Faith." 

"If you really want me to, I'm game." 

"Faith." Her attention switched back to Angel, the crossbow, lowered slightly during her exchange with Cordelia, rose to its former position, perfectly placed for reducing Angel to a pile of dust. "What are you doing here?" 

"Well, I was planning to kill you. Then, I don't know…coffee?" Silence reigned once more, as vampire and slayer stared at each other. Dust motes sparkled in the morning sun, while outside the muted drone of traffic could be heard. Connor fussed, and Cordelia stroked his head gently, murmuring to him. Wesley noticed that a book had fallen off the shelf, and made a note to pick it up later. And Faith and Angel just stood. 

Slowly, the crossbow was lowered, until she finally let go, and it clattered to the marble floor. She followed, crumpling to a heap on her knees, hair falling forwards to hide her face. 

*** *** *** 

"I didn't know what to do." Faith felt the floor beneath her hands, and spread her fingers wide, absorbing the cold smoothness of the marble. Her hair swirled around her head, and for a moment, just for a moment, she didn't feel anything at all, just the cold floor at her fingertips. But then, "I didn't know what to do." 

Footsteps came close, then hands closed around her arms, drawing her up, leading to the plush round sofa in the middle of the foyer. A hand brushed back her hair, and she looked up. 

"What happened, Faith?" Angel knelt in front of her, while Cordelia, and Wesley, further back, hovered behind him. Faith took a moment to register the baby - when did that happen? - then turned her attention to Angel. 

"They just let me out." She shrugged. "I don't know, I thought it was weird. It wasn't real - nothing was real. Then they came to see me." 

"They?" 

"Those lawyers. They wanted me to kill you. Said they got me out of jail, they could help me." 

"And you just said yes?" The astringent tones were pure Cordelia. 

"I didn't know - it's so hard. I want…I should be good, but all the time, inside, I just want to hurt people." A tear fell, and she looked at Angel. "This redemption - I don't think it works. Or maybe I don't work." 


	4. Mr Redemption

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Four - Mr Redemption**

Angel sat back on his heels, a frown furrowing his usually, well, furrowed brow. 

"Faith-" 

"Angel, much as I understand your desire to help Faith, I think we need to consider the immediate matter at hand." The soft voice broke the connection between vampire and slayer, and Faith turned towards her ex-watcher, eyes lowering as they met his. It was all very well trying to atone - although whether trying to kill the man responsible for trying to redeem her could actually be considered a form of atonement was a question she didn't really want to go into - but almost impossible to face the people she hurt so badly. Angel didn't really matter so much. The two of them could beat the crap out of each other seven ways from Sunday and not feel a thing the next day. And Angel didn't care. That was, he cared; he wanted to help her, but she couldn't hurt him, not like she had hurt Wesley. Wesley, who had been her watcher, who had wanted to help, but, honest to God, didn't have a clue about it all. 

And spending hours lovingly torturing someone did not endear you to them. 

"What's to consider? Wes, they're always trying to kill him! It's like, the status quo round -" 

"No, it's not." Wesley interrupted Cordelia firmly. "Remember, Angel features in their plans; they don't want him dead - not yet, anyway. Faith, what did they say exactly?" 

"Well, it was that lawyer chick, the bitch, you know?" 

"Lilah," three voices spoke together, and Faith smothered a grin before nodding. 

"Yeah, her. It was just all this crap, you know. Wolfram & Hart got me out, I fulfilled the…the terms of the agreement, she said. They paid me, I stayed out of jail. It's not like she went all super-villain on me and explained every detail of the plan. I _am_ just the paid muscle, after all." The bitterness in her tone was obvious, but Wesley ignored it. 

"What else?" 

"Jeez, Wesley, we weren't exactly trading pleasantries. This was pretty much, business as usual." Wesley opened his mouth to question her again, then thought better of it. 

"Go and get your things. You'd better stay here for the time being." Faith stared at him, bemusement evident in her face. 

"What?" Wesley walked over to the desk, and busied himself with some papers lying there, seemingly oblivious to the fact that not only Faith, but Angel and Cordelia were staring at him. Not turning, he continued, 

"It's only a matter of time before Wolfram & Hart realise that you haven't, er, fulfilled the terms of the agreement. You'll be safer here." He swung round, face impassive, as he looked coolly at the three of them. "Until then, there a couple of things I need to look into, so if you will excuse me…" His voice trailed off as he entered his office, closing the door decisively behind him, leaving three bewildered people behind him. Cordelia was, characteristically, the first to recover. 

"Well, better do like the bossman says," she chirped, making shooing motions at Faith. "Go, Faith, go! Get your things, and move in with us, thereby making the hotel a safer place for us all." 

"Cordelia." There was a warning note in Angel's voice, which was rather wasted as Cordelia payed not the slightest attention to it. 

"Oh, come on, Angel! I mean, I understand you being all 'Mr Redemption' and 'ooh, let's help Faith, 'cause that's a plan', but Wesley? What's with that?" 

"Okay, C, I didn't come here looking to move in…" 

"Damn straight! You came here looking to kill Angel! And, as a plan, not making us love you, Faith. I mean, you try and get our entire graduating year eaten, try and kill Buffy and Angel, several times, you hit me, giving me one heck of a black eye, which I did _not_ appreciate by the way, and, oh yeah, let's not forget the whole torturing Wesley thing. Then you're all 'I want to change', and confess to the police, but then, what? They let you out, and ten minutes later you're trying to kill Angel again? News flash, Faith! You haven't changed!" 

"I-" 

"Cordelia." 

"Angel, I just think-" 

"Connor's smelling a bit…maybe you should…" Cordelia's eyebrows climbed about three inches up her forehead, but after a moment's staring contest with Angel, she turned abruptly and strode up the stairs, Connor still in her arms. 

"Angel -" 

"Faith, just get your stuff. You heard what Wesley said - you'll be safer here while we decide what to do." She walked towards the slow, hesitating for an instant as she passed the fallen crossbow. "And, Faith?" She stopped. 

"Make sure you come back. Or I will come and get you." 


	5. Brother Anselm and the Sheep

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Five - Brother Anselm and the Sheep**

Brother Anselm had lived in a monastery off the north-eastern coast of England in the ninth century. His days had been typified by early mornings, cold water, and a large amount of praying, all of which, for some reason, he had felt obliged to chronicle in a series of excruciatingly boring manuscripts. However, during one spring, Brother Anselm had ended up slaying a Kavlar demon, which he had, dutifully, added to his blow by blow account of the day. So, slipped in between, "the morn was cold and Brother Eleric did lose three sheep", and "we broke our fast with bread made from the new miller's flour while Brother Alfred read a psalm", was an accurate description of how to kill the mighty Kavlar demon, and it was this that Wesley was studying with an intensity unusual even in him. An intensity that seemed somewhat misplaced since the Kavlar demon slain by Brother Anselm was the last recorded Kavlar demon to ever walk the face of the earth. 

In fact, so entranced by Brother Anselm's account ("and then I smote the beast with a large stick borrowed from the wife of the new miller") was he, that Wesley failed to look up when Angel, having knocked and received no answer, entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him. 

"Wesley." No answer. "Wesley." 

"Mm?" Deciding that the direct approach may not be the best idea, Angel sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He sneaked a peek at what Wesley was so engrossed in, and grinned. 

"Brother Anselm, hmm? Hey, you read the part yet where he catalogues the monastery's sheep? Definitely the high point for me." Mild curiosity prompted Wesley to look up. 

"You've read Brother Anselm?" 

"Classic bedside reading. Guaranteed to have the most die-hard insomniac asleep in ten minutes. In fact, I kind of have this theory that the whole counting sheep thing came from Brother Anselm's cataloguing." 

"Hmm. Angel, about Faith-" 

"Wesley, she wasn't going to kill me." 

"I know." Angel looked up in surprise, and Wesley smiled ruefully. "Contrary to popular belief, Angel, I am not a fool. Faith isn't going to hurt you; I know that and so do you. The problem is, she doesn't. She's so used to being cast in the role of an evil murderer - not without some cause, I must admit" - and he unconsciously rubbed his right arm, feeling now returned - "that she can't see how else she can behave. We must remember, that for most of her life, it is Faith's violent tendencies that have been rewarded - by the Mayor, and also by us, initially. After all, she _is_ the slayer - we expected her to be slaughtering demons every night. Unfortunately, I believe it became her way of connecting with a world that didn't want her. 

"And we owe it to her to help." 

"She hurt you." Wesley's smile was faint as he carefully closed the chronicles of Brother Anselm. 

"People hurt people, Angel. Unfortunately, that's a part of being human." 


	6. Demon Central

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Six - Demon Central**

Faith's "stuff" didn't exactly take up a lot of space. In fact, less than an hour after leaving the Hyperion Hotel, she was packed up and ready to go. Her life in a bag over her shoulder. Keeping a weather eye out for anyone following her, she made her way back to the hotel, hesitating for an instant outside before walking in, not sure which was worse - having to talk to Wesley, or having Cordelia unload on her. However, it seemed that neither was imminent - the foyer was bereft of Angel, Cordelia and Wesley; instead a tall black man and a dainty looking girl with long brown hair were standing by the desk, deep in conversation. Suddenly the girl broke off, turning towards Faith. 

"Hi. You lookin' for help? 'Cause, we do that." The girl smiled, and Faith found herself responding. 

"Kinda. Angel around?" 

"Went out. Business. Can I help? Uh, you know, we…" This time it was the man who answered, floundering slightly when his words didn't work. 

"I already said we help, Charles," the girl added, rolling her eyes for Faith's benefit. "Hopeless people and helpless people and homeless people. There sure are a lot of "H" people. I looked 'em up once. But…I was supposed to be looking up herbs." She shrugged, and smiled again. "Anyway, you need…?" 

"What the fuck is that?" 

"My, cupcake, I'm feeling some hostile vibes here. Feisty little one, aren't you?" Faith stared at the green demon, complete with red horns and a fetching white three piece number, coming down the stairs, baby in tow. "Fred, be a doll and take the little sweetums, will you. He's been trying to upchuck all over the suit for about twenty minutes now, and this is _so_ hard to have cleaned." 

"I'm in fucking demon central!" 

"Cupcake, you have got to watch the language in front of the baby! God knows he's going to have enough traumas in his life with Angel brooding over him without language like that. Now, are you here to be helped, or looking to critique the suit?" 

"Nice suit." 

"I have to say, you're lacking sincerity there. But points for trying." 

"Whatever. I'm just looking for Angel. Or Cordelia?" 

"Brown Eyes had a vision from the Powers, and Angel and Wes have gone off to be heroes. Slaying the big bad - you know how it is." Faith stood irresolute for a moment, then sighed. 

"Look, just tell Angel…tell him Faith came by. I'll come back later." She turned and walked back to the door, only to find her way blocked, by the big man - Charles. Gone was the grin, and instead he glared down at her, looking - if she was the intimidated type - intimidating. 

"You're Faith." She shifted slightly, threw him a challenging look. 

"What, you deaf or something?" 

"Oh, I heard all about you, girl. You know, I don't like people who try and hurt my friends. Gets me all mad. So how 'bout you walk out of here and don't bother coming back, okay?" 

"Charles -" 

"Stay out of this, Fred. You don't know what this bitch did." 


	7. The Crossness that is Charles Gunn

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Seven - The Crossness that is Charles Gunn**

"Gunn, can I see you in my office for a moment, please." Both Faith and Gunn swung round in surprise as Wesley and Angel walked through the main doors, Angel toting a large battle axe and Wesley looking somewhat the worse for wear, though his gaze was steady, levelled on the younger man. Gunn shot a quick glance at the slayer, then nodded to Angel, and followed Wesley into the office behind the front desk. Angel crossed to the desk, and dropped the axe onto it before taking off the ubiquitous leather coat. 

"Didya kill the demon?" came an excited voice, and Faith looked in surprise at the girl with brown hair. 

"Yeah, Fred, we killed it," Angel answered with a grin. 

"Well, not to get all picky, Angelcakes, but couldn't you have killed it _before_ it sang "Some Enchanted Evening"? I swear, that thing nearly emptied the place!" 

"Come on, Lorne, it wasn't that bad." A snort could be heard from halfway up the stairs. 

"Yeah, like you'd know!" 

"Cordelia!" 

"Yep, and before you all ask, I'm fine. Demon dead, Cordelia OK." She walked down the stairs, her slightly pale face the only testimony to the excruciating headache caused by her latest vision. "Say, where'd Wes go? Don't tell me he needed another trip to the ER?" 

"He's talkin' to Charles. In the office," Fred added portentously. "Charles was gettin' kinda cross." Cordelia's eyebrows once again began the climb to her hairline, and she looked at Faith. 

"Kinda cross, huh? Gee, I wonder what brought that on?" 

*** *** *** 

The crossness that was Charles Gunn was, as they spoke, looking at his boss in disbelief. 

"Okay, so you're telling me that, after all that bitch did, you're just going to let her stay here. Because she needs - what? To keep her "get out of jail free" card? Wes, she should be back in prison. And, you know, whatever Wolfram & Hart want to do with her, fine by me." 

"Gunn - please. Faith's at a difficult stage, and you threatening to kick her ass - and not to insult your masculinity, but I rather think you'd find it was the other way around - could send her running. And, after all, she's never done anything to you." 

"Wesley, Cordelia told me what she did to you. And you think I'm going to welcome her with open arms?" 

"Bare civility would do." Gunn looked at Wesley, genuinely not getting him. "Are you bucking for sainthood or something here, Wes? 'Cause I'm really not understanding why you're going out of your way to help her." 

"I'm hardly a saint, Gunn. But I failed Faith before, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. She needs our help, and that includes you." 


	8. Meeting, Swiftly Followed by Plan

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Eight - Meeting, Swiftly Followed by Plan**

The following morning Faith awoke, once again, in an unfamiliar room. The sun streamed through the window, and for a moment she felt that deep sense of contentment that comes as you drift into consciousness. Then she realised where she was, and most of it - but not all - faded. She sat up, and looked around the room Angel had brought her to the night before. The wallpaper was dire, and the bed mildly lumpy, but it was, well, nice. Her bag was carelessly slung into an armchair, her jeans, top and bra on the floor at the foot of the bed. She stood up and stretched, uncaring of the fact that she was clad only in a pair of yellow knickers. She was midway through getting dressed, when a knock at the door made her jump. 

"Faith? Are you up?" It was Wesley. 

"No! I mean, yeah, but I-" 

"Come downstairs when you're ready. We're having a meeting." Footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into silence, and Faith was left, clutching a t-shirt to her chest, feeling breathless and flustered, and then angry at herself for behaving like an idiot. She pulled the t-shirt on slowly, then rifled through her bag to find her hairbrush. 

A meeting. Was that good or bad? Would it be "So long, Faith, thanks for trying to kill us!" or would they try and help. Faith found herself surprised at how much she wanted their help, now, in the cold light of day. She _wanted_ to be normal; to go out shopping, or bake a cake, or not to have to worry that she would kill someone. Her hand hovered over her hair, then she lowered the hairbrush. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and walked out into the rest of the hotel. 

They were all sitting in the foyer. Gunn and that weird girl, Fred, were talking to each other quietly. Angel was holding the baby, with Cordelia sitting beside him, playing with one small foot. Even the bizarro green demon with the suit fixation was there, admiring his reflection in a small mirror. And standing at the desk, apparently engrossed in some ancient manuscript, was Wesley. Faith hesitated half way down the stairs, wondering what they were all planning to do. It was Wesley who looked up first, and gestured her down before heading for the others in the middle of the foyer. She descended slowly, then more quickly, irritated by having all eyes upon her, ending up propped against a pillar. 

"Wolfram & Hart have again stepped up their efforts to kill Angel." The speaker was Wesley, and Faith noticed that all the others seemed to take his authority in their stride. "However, given what research I've done, and the reports we're getting from our sources, it seems likely that the source isn't Angel at all, but Connor." 

"The kid?" As heads turned towards her, Faith regretted her exclamation, but Wesley continued. 

"It seems as if Connor has a large part to play in the future. Wolfram & Hart, obviously, want as much in their favour as possible, which includes having Connor either under their control or…" He trailed off. 

"Or dead," Angel finished, looking grim. 

"Unfortunately, we don't really know what their plan is, which, obviously, leaves us at a disadvantage. However, I have thought of a plan that might help us there." The others looked at him expectantly, and Faith wondered if she was the only one who noticed how uncomfortable he looked. "Now, this may seem a little…radical, and I can quite understand if you all feel it to be too extreme, but…" 

"Wes, tell us the plan!" broke in Cordelia, impatient as ever. "Don't worry - if it's stupid, we'll tell you." 

"Thank you, Cordelia. Very well. Faith is going to go back to Wolfram & Hart, and tell them that she has succeeded in killing Angel." He turned to Faith. "You will stay in their employ for as long as you can, and find out what they want with Angel and Connor. Angel will stay here in the hotel, and see no-one. Lorne will take Connor to Caritas and Cordelia will go with him - that's probably the safest place, and the least suspicious. Gunn will go with them in case anything happens. I'll stay at the hotel, and ostensibly keep the agency running." 


	9. Act Your Usual Bitchy Self

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Nine - Act Your Usual Bitchy Self**

"What!?" 

"You're shittin' me, man!" 

"Okay, Wesley, that _is_ a bad idea!" 

"I have to be dead?" 

"You _are_ dead!" With this last comment, Cordelia subsided under the pointed glare Wesley was handing around with admirable impartiality. When there was silence, he spoke again. 

"We _need_ to find out what Wolfram & Hart have planned. And this is the best way to do that, as far as I can see. Now, we don't know how fast they'll move after they think Angel is out of the way - or even if they'll move at all, for that matter, but hopefully they'll use Faith, and we can rely on her to keep us informed." 

"Are you nuts, Wes? And, believe me, that _is_ an honest question!" 

"Okay, what's with the relying on me?" 

"Faith-" 

"No, Wesley! I'll…I'll screw up! You know I'll screw up! I can't do this." 

"Faith, you won't screw up." As he spoke, Wesley approached the slayer, noticing the fear that darkened her eyes. "You can do this." He put out a hand, and she reacted, pushing him back so that he almost fell. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she looked at him in shock. 

"Wesley, I-" 

"Faith, it's all right. See? It doesn't matter." 

"No-no! I shouldn't be here!" She looked around blindly, her panic clear. "I'm sorry - I-" She ran for the door, but to everyone's surprise it was Gunn standing in front of her. 

"The boss says we're gonna rely on you, then we're relying on you." She looked around again, back at Wesley, who stared right back at her. 

"We need you, Faith. We need you to help us." 

*** *** *** 

Two hours later, the plan was ready. Angel would spend the foreseeable future down in the basement, with an axe, a good book, and a fridge full of blood. Cordelia, Fred and Gunn would go to Caritas with Lorne, taking Connor. The spells guarding Caritas were back in full effect, and no violence was going to be done by _anyone_ there. Wesley would stay at the Hyperion, keeping the place running, and providing a link between Angel and the others, and would also be the one in contact with Faith. Faith herself was to go back to the hotel with her stuff, and thence to Wolfram & Hart, where she would inform Lilah Morgan that Angel was dead. 

"Now, Faith, they may be a little suspicious, especially after what happened before, so you just need to keep up the façade; give them a little attitude, and, er, well…" 

"He means act your usual bitchy self and no one will suspect anything," interrupted Cordelia impatiently. 

"Yes, Cordelia, thank you. Now, there is the problem of the mind readers -" 

"Mind readers? They've got fucking _mind readers_ in there?" 


	10. Into the Dragon's Lair

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Ten - Into the Dragon's Lair**

Once the mind reader issue had been resolved (see a mind reader = run), the meeting dispersed. Fred and Gunn disappeared together, while Angel went off with Cordy and Connor to get ready for the trip to Caritas, and Lorne skedaddled to get everything ready, murmuring something about socket covers and extra insurance. Eventually Faith and Wesley were the only ones left in the foyer, and she looked at him defensively. 

"Now what?" 

"Get your things together, and get back to the motel. If anyone asks you about where you were last night, don't lie - it's too easy to check, if they don't already know. Tell them you went to Angel, and he took you in. Then you killed him. They're lawyers, the institution of double-crossing is something they believe in implicitly." 

"How do you know I won't?" 

"Because I know you, Faith." 

"Yeah, right, that's what you said when-I'll just go get my stuff." With that awkward reminder of the past, she ran up the stairs, leaving Wesley alone, looking up after her. Wondering if he'd done the right thing. 

*** *** *** 

"Ms Morgan, there's a young lady to see you." Lilah looked up from the case she had been perusing, then focused on the buzzer. 

"I'm busy, Emma." 

"Uh, she says it's urgent - a contractual matter." There was a note of panic in her PA's voice that made a slow smile cross Lilah's face. 

"Show her in." The door flew open as she spoke, and Faith, in all her glory, stalked into the room. Dressed in leather trousers and a blood red top, make up sultry, expression dangerous, Faith was the living embodiment of the _femme fatale_ - literally. 

"Faith. Do sit down." Lilah showed no signs of perturbation as Faith failed to do anything of the sort. "I have to be honest, I wasn't sure I'd see you again." 

"Yeah, well, I'm a woman of surprises." 

"And our…terms of agreement." 

"Fulfilled." Lilah's smile spread further. 

"I am so _very_ glad to hear it." 


	11. Please Don't Make Me Hurt You

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Eleven - Please Don't Make Me Hurt You**

The motel was dank and depressing in the dark, but Faith paid no attention as she looked around, a worried expression creasing her features. The afternoon seemed to have gone well enough. She had bitched away, and that had been easy enough, especially given how nervous she felt - insecurity was definitely the best thing for bringing out sarcasm - and Lilah seemed to have believed her. She had spun a derisive story of how pathetically easy Angel had been to fool; how he had talked her into giving herself up to the police once, and seemed eager to do it again. And how she had killed him; buried a stake - slowly - into his heart, laughing to his face. 

And that was all well and good, and following the plan, but now there was one of Wolfram & Hart's goons outside, standing next to a limo, waiting for her to pack her bags and go with him. It made sense: Lilah wanted to keep an eye on her investment; didn't want Faith to go AWOL. But Faith found herself anxious - if Wolfram & Hart took her off, how would Wesley find her again - how would she manage to get to him if anything happened? 

A scuffle outside, and she was instantly on guard, reaching for the knife that she had hidden at the bottom of her bag. The door burst open to reveal…Wesley? She looked at him in shock, then pushed past to look outside. She had an instant to catch sight of the goon, lying face down on the tarmac, clearly out for the count, before a violent shove had her spinning inside, and Wesley slammed the door shut behind her. 

"You little bitch! Did you think I would let you get away with it?" She gazed at him in confusion, then took a step back as he advanced on her, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Another step, and then he grabbed her arms, shook her, and pressed his cheek against hers. Faith had a moment to register the feel of his stubble against her face and then she heard the murmured words, "There'll be a bug. Hit me." She pulled back in horror, shaking her head violently, but before she could move, he swung at her, punching her hard in the face. She reacted, unthinkingly, pushing him away, then kicking out so that he landed on the floor. 

Wesley grunted with the impact of her foot in his midsection, but she hadn't kicked him hard enough to knock him out, and he stood, looking at her with loathing. This was the hardest part, and he knew it. Wolfram & Hart would expect someone to try and hit back at Faith; they knew what Angel meant to the people around him, and, had Faith really killed him, there was no way that death would go unavenged. The trick would be to get Faith to beat him up enough to look like she meant it, but not enough for either him to get seriously hurt, or for her to lose control. She was backed into a corner now, staring at him, her expression almost blank. He advanced, and punched her in the stomach. She gasped, bent over, but when she straightened she made no move to hit back, and the blank expression was still on her face. He raised his hand to hit her again, hoping to prompt a reaction, then froze as he saw her flinch. 

"Damn," he swore softly, lowering his arm, looking away in shame. He came closer, ignoring her fast breathing and scared eyes. He stood close, pressed against her, shielding her from any cameras that Wolfram & Hart might have planted. His hands were on her shoulders, but gentle, not violent. 

"Faith, they have to see this. You have to make it real. Preferably without hurting me too much," and a wry note entered his voice. 

"Please don't make me hurt you again," she whispered back, and Wesley could feel the tremors running through her body, and damned himself for putting her in this position so soon. 

"Listen to me, Faith. All this violence - it's a part of you. And that's not evil, not in itself. You have to learn to control it." 

"You don't understand - what it's like." 

"I understand what it's like to have a part of you that you don't want to admit exists, a part that you're ashamed of, and want to pretend isn't there. I understand what it's like to do something and feel wracked with guilt about afterwards." 

"You don't-" 

"I know what it's like to hurt someone." 


	12. That Sado-Masochistic Thing

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twelve - That Sado-Masochistic Thing**

Three seconds later Wesley was on the floor, reeling from the knee he had just received in his stomach. Another second, and Faith was straddling him, grinning that wicked grin he had always hated. 

"God, Wes, you are _so_ pathetic. Always trying to be heroic, and you're just a big wimp!" On the last word, she raised herself slightly before banging down, forcing out the air in his lungs and leaving him breathless. Then she was gone, running off into the night, pausing only to pick up her bag. 

Wesley lay on the floor, strangely relaxed. He gazed up at the ceiling, noticing absently the cracks running along it, the damp that was oozing down the walls. He lifted a hand slowly and rubbed his stomach, which he felt was going to be rather sore in the morning. Actually, sod that. It was rather sore now. 

He picked himself up painfully, and left the motel room rather warily. The Wolfram & Hart muscle looked to be hazily waking up, and Wesley took a somewhat savage delight in kicking him in the ribs. He stumbled down the street for half a block until he found his motorcycle, carefully tucked behind a pile of packing crates. He mounted, wincing as he pulled on his stomach muscles. A moment later, and he roared off into the night. Rogue Demon Hunter indeed, he thought to himself with a grin, and then winced again. 

Caritas had yet to open its doors to the public, but the door, per se, was open, and Wesley walked in, sinking gratefully into one of the chairs already out. His entrance had obviously alerted the occupants, and Gunn came bursting in, crossbow at the ready, only to lower it as he saw Wesley. 

"God, Gunn, to you have to wave that thing around? It's so obviously Wes!" Cordelia hovered around, and though her words were as sharp as ever, it was clear she was concerned. "Okay, Wes, you look like someone beat the crap out of you." 

"As ever, Cordelia, your perspicacity is truly overwhelming." 

"Shut up, you big jerk!" She hit him lightly in the ribs, then her looked apologetic as he groaned. "Oh. Sorry!" 

"Hey, man, who did this?" It was Gunn, looking mean and protective as only he knew how. 

"Don't worry - just Faith." 

"That bitch! I knew we shouldn't have…" 

"Calm down, Gunn! I asked her to." They looked at him in surprise. 

"'Kay, Wesley, I think you've taken one bump too many to that big head of yours." 

"Oh. God." The two men turned to look at Cordelia, who was sitting back, an expression of disgust on her face. "Wesley - and the whole sado-masochistic thing. I mean - eww!" 

"Cordelia, I… Look, just forget it. All part of the plan, the beautiful plan. Now, get me a drink, and I'm going back to my place to sleep off…the pain." He grimaced. "The _large_ amounts of pain. Ow." 


	13. Apt B, 1532 Colonial St.

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirteen - Apt B, 1532 Colonial St.**

Faith walked quickly, hoping not to attract any undue attention. When she judged that she had got far enough away from the motel, she looked down at the piece of paper clenched in her fist; a piece of paper Wesley had slipped there as she squashed the air out of him. She opened it out curiously, to find a key and a message written in Wesley's precise hand: "Apt B, 1532 Colonial St. Make sure you're not followed, and no one sees you go inside." 

Colonial St. was a quiet road, and at nine o'clock in the evening, most of the residents were safely tucked in their houses, watching TV or whatever. Faith lurked in the dark shadow of a somewhat profuse bush, watching for any signs of someone keeping an eye out for her. All was quiet, however, and she walked nonchalantly across the street to number 1532, before running up the stairs to the first floor _[NB: I'm English - if you're American, I think I mean the 2nd floor.]_ apartment. The key fit the lock; she turned it and went in. 

It was unmistakably Wesley's apartment. Bare of any decoration, it was simple in design, and could easily have looked cold. But Wesley obviously wasn't the most tidy of men, or had had too many things on his mind recently, because the apartment most definitely looked lived in. Clothes were strewn over the sofa and chair; a pair of socks dangled off the edge of the coffee table. But the overwhelming theme was "books". There weren't any bookshelves, which struck Faith as bizarre, but books were stacked in piles against the far wall. They took up an entire chair, and teetered dangerously on the window sill. Faith grinned. She'd taken Wesley to be a sort of mahogany and leather, old English library type of apartment man, but _this_ - well, this worked too. 

*** *** *** 

Wesley _hurt_. All over. And he had drunk just enough to be feeling decidedly cross about it. Not content with inviting Faith - Little Miss Violent - to beat the crap out of him, as Cordelia had so elegantly phrased it, he had also gone a couple rounds with the limo driver at the start of the proceedings, which had been harder than one would imagine. 

He limped up the stairs, wondering if Faith would be there or not; if she'd just run. Opening the front door, he felt a moment's disappointment. The lights were out, and there was no indication that anyone else was in the flat. Then a rustle made him turn, and there was Faith, hair dripping wet, self-consciously fiddling with the belt to his dressing gown. It was dark red with a paisley print, a present from his mother, and Wesley had the irreverent thought that she had never intended it to be worn by someone like Faith. 

"I hope you don't mind." He was jerked back to reality by Faith's voice. He stared for a moment, and she looked down, tucking one wet strand of hair behind her ear. "I took a shower and…" 

"It's fine. Never wear it anyway." He limped to the sofa, moved aside yesterday's shirt, and flopped down. 

"You're hurt!" 


	14. Take the Damned Aspirin

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Fourteen - Take the Damned Aspirin**

"You don't need to make it sound like an accusation." Faith came closer, then stopped, and sniffed. 

"Jeez, Wes, I didn't think you had to resort to _drinking_ away your troubles. You stink!" He opened one eye, and looked at her disparagingly. 

"Thank you for that contribution, Miss I Get Beaten Up Every Day And Never Notice." Immediately her smile vanished, and she stepped back. 

"Damn it! It was me, wasn't it? Wesley, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" 

"Actually, it wasn't." She stopped, and looked at him suspiciously. 

"What?" 

"The set to I had with your friendly limo driver is mostly responsible for my current pain. You were just the cherry on the cake, so to speak." 

"Honest? You're not just trying to make me feel better?" 

"Cross my heart and hope to…well, not die, exactly." 

"Something almost as crappy." 

"Hope to have to hear Angel sing?" 

"Angel sings? Get out of here!" 

"Not to be disloyal, but most of the time we rather wish he wouldn't. Man can't sing," he added confidingly, in case Faith had missed the gist of what he was saying. Then he laughed in a manner which sounded scarily like a giggle. Faith looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then one eyebrow lifted. 

"You're drunk." Wesley sat in concentration for a moment, then nodded. 

"Yes." He nodded again. "I'm terribly sorry." She shrugged. 

"'Sokay. I can deal." 

"Hmmmm." Wesley slid sideways, and in three seconds flat was fast asleep, head resting on a first edition Wodehouse, a sweater and what looked like a pair of boxers. Faith edged closer, and stood looking down on him, arms crossed. Then she sighed. 

"God, Wesley, that is so pathetic. You know if you're going to go out and get drunk then you deserve to spend the night on the couch." As she spoke, she knelt down at the end of the sofa, and carefully grabbed one of his feet. Easing off his shoe, she continued her diatribe. "_Extremely_ uncomfortable, _and_ too short for you. Not to mention the mess you'll make with your shoes," and off came the other one, "and I _really_ hope you have a hangover in the morning." She stood up with that, and headed for the bathroom, coming back a minute later with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. "Come on, Wes, wake up." 

"Huhmm?" She poked him in the ribs, then rattled the aspirin bottle. 

"Sit up and take the damned aspirin already!" Wesley sat up, nursing his head, and looking at Faith with a large amount of dislike. 

"I'm up. Aspirin." She handed him the pills and the glass of water. He took them, groaned again, then tipped his head back, resting it on the sofa. 

"Piece of advice, Wesley. If you're planning to do a lot of sleeping on that couch, you'd better get one that you fit on." 

"Quite. Oh God." 

"Wesley?" He didn't say anything, and Faith bit her lip, feeling distinctly out of her depth. "Uh, Wesley, do you think we should go to the hospital?" He shook his head. "Are you sure? 'Cause you're not looking real good from where I'm standing." 

"I'm fine." At her skeptical look, he shrugged and rephrased. "I don't need to go to hospital. Go to bed, Faith. I'll be fine here." 


	15. Goodbye, Little Dream

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Fifteen - Goodbye, Little Dream**

Wesley lay on the sofa, head nestled on "Aunts Aren't Gentlemen", one leg dangling over the side. He was, as his snores attested to, fast asleep. The flat was silent; all that could be heard was the traffic outside and the faint whirr of the refrigerator in the kitchen. There was a movement in the corner of the room, and Faith left the bedroom. She approached the sofa, cautiously, cat-like. She raised her hand, and glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the half-open curtains, was the knife she kept in the bottom of her bag. She looked at the sleeping man, then, raising her arm high, brought the knife plunging down, sinking it into the warm flesh lying there. 

*** *** *** 

Wesley shot upwards, jerking awake in reaction to the noise, momentarily disoriented as he looked around. Comprehension swiftly followed, and he leapt up, neatly avoiding tripping over a pile of books by the side of the sofa. Running his hand over his face, he ran into the bedroom, where Faith was asleep. Asleep and, from the sound of it, having one heck of a nightmare. 

"Faith! Faith, wake up!" His words had no effect on the sleeping woman, and Wesley sat on the edge of the bed, concern evident in his eyes. He leaned over and took hold of her shoulders, wincing as one thrashing arm connected with the side of his head. He shook her lightly, calling again, "Wake up, Faith!" Her eyes shot wide open, and she looked at him in horror, stilling beneath his hands. "That's right, it's just a dream. You're safe. You're…" He got no further, as she pushed him away, her hands pulling open his shirt. 

"Faith! I hardly think this is the…" 

"It's not there." He looked at her curiously, catching her hands in his. She knelt there, staring at his chest, shaking slightly. 

"What's not there? Faith, what is it?" 

"I - I stabbed you. In the chest. There was blood -" 

"It was just a dream. It wasn't real." 

"Just a dream." She pulled away, sat for a moment, then reached out as if to touch him again. "No!" This time she pulled away more definitely, jumping off the bed, and walking over to the window. She stood for a moment, looking out over the street, then turned towards Wesley, sitting there on the bed. 

"What kind of person am I, Wesley? I mean, I have these dreams, and they're always the same. I'm _always_ hurting people. And I want to ignore it, and pretend they're not there, but they always are, in the back of my head, and I think it's driving me mad." She was crying, and she brushed away the tears impatiently, looking at her ex-watcher beseechingly. "Wesley, I don't know what to do anymore." 

He got off the bed, walked towards her slowly, giving her time to move if she wanted to, but she didn't, and then she was in his arms, crying fit to break her heart. 

"I just want it all to go away." 


	16. Wesley II of Austria-Hungary

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Sixteen - Wesley II of Austria-Hungary**

Quarter of an hour later, and Wesley was sitting on his bed, Faith lying beside him, her eyes finally dry. Wearing the top half of a pair of his pyjamas (blue stripe - present from maternal aunt), and with her eyes red-rimmed she looked a mess, but the crying had obviously relieved some of the tension inside her. 

"It boils up inside me, and there's nothing I can do," she said suddenly, and Wesley knew something had to be said, something to make sure she didn't spend the rest of her life terrified that she would hurt someone. 

"Violence is inherent in all of us," he said quietly, facing her. "No matter how saintly the person, there comes a time when everyone causes pain to someone else. That's why children can be so vicious. It's inside us all." 

"But you - you're not violent." He looked at her pointedly, then laughed - a distinctly unhumorous laugh. 

"Unfortunately, that is most definitely not true. I'm as violent as the next man - perhaps more so. I'm not a saint, Faith, or some kind of superior person, and don't try and put me in that category just because you hurt me. There's a part of me I am _not_ proud of, and that, quite frankly, I wish wasn't there, but it is, and I have to deal with it. It's all about control. Learn when to use violence and when to curb it." He looked away, once again feeling the stirrings of failure that had dogged him since Sunnydale. "You should have been taught this years ago, when you were first a slayer. Violence is part of your everyday life, but you have to keep your grip on the normal world. It's too easy to sink into a form of society where violence is the way to communicate." 

"What I said - before - about you being a bad watcher. I shouldn't have said it, it wasn't true." Wesley laughed again, and this time there was genuine humour in it. 

"Yes, it was true. I _was_ a bad watcher, Faith. I was so caught up all the protocols and rules of the council that I ignored what had be done right then and there." He laughed again. "I suppose I was a bit of a Joseph II!" Whatever he meant, it obviously caused him some entertainment, as he chuckled again. Faith stared at him, and after a moment he became aware of her regard, and coughed self-consciously, scratching his chin. 

"Right. Of course. Joseph II - Austro-Hungarian emperor of the eighteenth century. He was fascinated by the theories of statecraft around in that period, and gave all his attention to them at the expense of the actual problems his country was facing. Well…" Faith grinned. 

"Thanks, Wesley. And this time, I _do_ mean it. Anyway, I think I should probably go back to…" and she gestured at the bed. Wesley leapt up, and backed away, stumbling over a forgotten box of tissues by the door. 

"Absolutely. Excellent idea. I just - hang on a minute!" He disappeared, only to return a minute later, triumphantly bearing a book. "Knew I had a copy of this somewhere!" Faith eyed the thick, leather-bound volume dubiously. 

"You know, Wes, I'm not really much of a reader." 

"Chronicles of Brother Anselm," he announced, completely ignoring her, in a manner so reminiscent of Sunnydale-watcher-Wesley that Faith had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. "Incomparable when it comes to getting off to sleep after a bad dream. Angel favours the sheep catalogue incident, but my personal preference is when Brother Anselm is put in charge of painting the dairy shed. He devotes three chapters to sitting on a milking stool in the middle of the shed making sure the paint dried evenly." 

"Making sure - You mean, he watched paint dry?" 

"Exactly!" 


	17. Wolfram & Hart Foot the Bill

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

**In re the summary, has anyone got any ideas how I could make it better - I don't think it gives a very good idea of what the story's about. Or maybe it does. I don't know, hence the problem.**

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Seventeen - Wolfram & Hart Foot the Bill**

Engrossed in the file she was reading, Lilah Morgan did not bother to look up when she entered her office. Which is why it came as something of a surprise when she reached her chair only to find that someone else was already sitting in it. 

"Faith!" 

"The one and only," came the drawled reply. Once again clad in leather trousers, Faith was sitting back in the chair, legs crossed. On the desk in front of her was a glass of brandy. "I had a look round. Alcohol salve your conscience, Lilah?" 

"I hear you had a visitor last night." Faith laughed. 

"I guess Wolfram & Hart have their spies everywhere." 

"Actually, the chauffeur - once he regained consciousness - was quite informative. Mr Wyndham-Pryce, I believe." 

"Good ole Wesley. Come to avenge his friend. Y'know, you'd think a man as brainy as him would have better sense." 

"Did you kill him?" 

"Did your friendly chauffeur find the body?" Lilah's eyebrows rose, but she forebore to say more. The senior partners might have plans for Angel and his child, but Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was nothing to them. Right now, her problem was Faith herself. The slayer was most definitely a loose cannon, and all the more dangerous for it. She gave a fleeting thought to whether anyone had ever been able to control this woman, then mentally shrugged, and returned to the business at hand. 

"Where are you staying, Faith?" Faith rose from the chair, and wandered idly round the room, admiring the occasional objet d'art. 

"You know what, Lilah? I don't think I want to tell you. See, the way I figure it, Wesley's not the only one who'll be coming after me. And something tells me that Wolfram & Hart will be the first place they look. So excuse me if I look after my own ass - for the time being, anyway." 

"Fair enough. Though I would like to know how to contact you if-" Before she could finish, Faith was shaking her head, a mocking glint in her eyes. 

"Lilah, Lilah. You know it doesn't work like that." 

"Faith, I really must insist-" She trailed off as a wicked-looking knife appeared in Faith's hand. She toyed with it, the shining blade almost beautiful in the warm afternoon sun. 

"No, Lilah, _I_ insist. You want me, you play by my rules." 

"What are you going to do with that? You know security would be here in an instant." 

"Hey, that's long enough for me to slit your throat, lady." 

"But then you-" 

"What? You think I couldn't take them? I'm not some brooding vampire-with-a-soul. I'm a slayer. I aim to kill. And I never miss." 

Lilah sat down, rather more hurriedly than she would have liked. She was used to hiring demon assassins. It went with the territory. It was cold, clinical. They did the job, she paid the money. But this - this was different. Faith wasn't going to stay in her neat little box, "Slayer turned Assassin". Faith was dangerous - not just to the people she was paid to kill, but to anyone she dealt with. 

"All right," she capitulated, keeping a wary eye on the knife Faith was wielding. "We'll play this your way. But remember: Wolfram & Hart foot the bill, we call the shots." 

Faith shrugged disinterestedly. "Whatever." 

"Angel has a son. I want you to find out where he is." 

"And kill him?" 

"No. Not just yet. We just want to know where he is." 


	18. The Garishly Pink 'Thor's Revenge'

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Eighteen - The Garishly Pink "Thor's Revenge"**

Down in the Hyperion's boiler room, Angel was catching up on his reading. He had an assortment of demon-esque texts that Wesley had enthusiastically recommended, as well as a textbook on basic science - Fred's contribution, in an effort to really bring him up to snuff on the twenty-first century. Lastly, Cordelia had handed him a torrid romance, with a muscular Viking on the front cover, raven haired beauty swathed around him. Needless to say, it was this latter he was buried in when Wesley came a-knocking in the afternoon. 

"Angel! What happened to the Agerian texts?" he expostulated, gazing in horror at the two entwined lovers, under the garishly pink "Thor's Revenge". Angel looked evasive. 

"Couldn't sleep. I needed something to…" 

"What happened to Brother Anselm? Something tells me that Thor, whoever he is, and I presume they're not referring to the Norse god, is not the soothing type. Quite the opposite, I'd say." 

"I don't know. A few muscle-bound hunks of manhood, and they all start to look the same." The two men turned in surprise at the voice behind them. 

"Hello, Faith." 

"Wes. Hey, Angel. I didn't really peg you for the trashy romance type… No, wait. All that angst with B - should have known." Wesley emitted what sounded suspiciously like a muffled chuckle, and Angel changed the subject quickly, uncomfortably reminded of the "show" Wesley and Cordelia had put on for Fred to explain his relationship with Buffy ("I love you so much I almost forgot to brood!"). 

"So, what's the situation with our friends at Wolfram & Hart?" Faith sat down and stretched her legs out in front of her. 

"Well, they figure you're dead - Wesley too," she added, much to the surprise of the gentleman in question. 

"Me?" She nodded. 

"They already knew about you coming to beat up on me. Lilah thinks I've chopped you into little bits and fed you to the fishes." Wesley looked slightly concerned at this. 

"That's rather inconvenient. I suppose I'll have to lay low now." 

"Nope. I never actually said I killed you. I guess it'll keep them on their toes." Angel and Wesley both grinned at this, and she smiled back, for once neither mocking or self-condemnatory. Then the smile slid off her face, and in the moment before she spoke, Wesley found himself missing that smile. 

"She told me to find out where Angel's child was." 


	19. Lasagne, Patrol, and Horniness

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. Brother Anselm is all mine, though! 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Nineteen - Lasagne, Patrol, and Horniness**

Faith sat at a kitchen stool, revelling in the normality of her current position. A glass of wine was on the counter before her, and she sipped it occasionally as she watched Wesley prepare their dinner. Angel had agreed, rather reluctantly, to let Faith report on Connor's location, on the understanding that she did everything possible it find out exactly what they wanted with him, and Wesley had suggested that, as long as they were careful, there was no reason why she shouldn't stay in his flat. Fortunately, his building had a basement that was connected to the labyrinthine network of Los Angeles sewers, and there was no reason for Faith to get caught. 

"Thanks for letting me stay, Wes," she said suddenly. Wesley, engrossed with measuring the precise amount of milk to go in his cheese sauce, didn't look up. 

"Not a problem. Anyway, I'd rather you were somewhere safe." Measuring finished, he poured the milk into the pan, and turned up the heat. "Perfect! Now, can you pass me the lasagne? It's in that cupbaord." He pointed, and Faith jumped off the stool. Finding the pasta, she handed it over, and watched silently as he readied the rest of the meal. 

*** *** *** 

"That was great, Wesley!" Faith sat back, rubbing her stomach. "I haven't eaten a home-cooked meal in...pretty much forever." 

"A man must be self-sufficient in the kitchen," intoned Wesley, smugly, as he cleared the dishes. "Gone are the days when a man has a wife to rely on." She laughed at his expression, but then sighed and wriggled in her seat. Noting the discontented grimace, Wesley looked at her curiously. "Is something wrong?" 

"No...yes!" At his inquisitive look, she burst forth: "I just...I really want to..." Her fists were clenching and unclenching, and Wesley, putting two and two together and coming up with the requisite four, smiled. 

"Go out - go and patrol." 

"Patrol." 

"Yes, you know, go for a walk, take a pointy stick..." 

"Iknow what patrol means, Wesley. I just - I haven't done that in a while." Wesley finished clearing the dishes, then leaned on the counter and looked at her seriously. 

"You've obviously got a lot of excess, er, energy stored up. Patrolling is an effective - and useful - way of getting rid of it." 

"But what - what if, you know, something happens. Something goes wrong, or I-" 

"Faith, I trust you. Go out, patrol, kill a few vampires - save a few lives. Make sure you're back here at-" he consulted his watch - "one o'clock." 

*** *** *** 

Half past midnight, and Faith was on good form. She had patrolled the back alleys around the clubs - always - a favourite hunting ground for vamps - and rescued a number of poor souls about to be exsanguinated. Then she had come upon a nest of vampires merrily making plans for mass destruction; plans which had been equally merrily terminated. 

But though she had shaken off most of the restlessness that had been plaguing her, she was faced with the second problem associated with slaying. She was horny. There was nobody ahndy to shag, and for some reason she didn't want to go looking for a one night stand in one of those clubs. Besides, Wesley had told her to be back by one, and there though wasn't any reason to obey him, she found herself wanting to do as he said. Wesley - no! He was, well, not her watcher, not any more, but... No! Really not an option! Besides, she wasn't attracted to Wesley; it was just that she was kind of desperate, and he was the only man around, if you excluded Angel, which she did, because a) he really wasn't her type and b) if she knew anything about men, he was still hung up on Buffy. 

Lost in her internal musings, Faith was surprised to find herself already at Wesley's apartment building. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a moment it was opened cautiously, then wider as Wesley realised who was there. 

"How did it go?" he asked, as they sat down in the living room. 

"Okay, I guess. Killed a few vamps, the usual." 

"Good. Well, I'm just going-" As he spoke, Wesley leant over to pick up a book on the floor. Faith moved at the same time, then seemed to slip, and collided against him. She was suddenly breathless, and Wesley went still for a moment, before standing and continuing as if nothing had happened - "to the off-licence. I, er, said I'd pick up a bottle of Scotch for Angel. I'll take it down to him, so I'll probably be a couple of hours." He shrugged on a jacket, and was off before Faith could think of anything to say. 

"Shit!" 

Getting ready for bed, she was blushing with embarrassment, something she hadn't done for a long time. Wesley had known exactly what she was thinking - and had been the perfect gentleman about it. Nothing left to do but deal with it herself. 


	20. Don't Get Buried in Guilt

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. Brother Anselm is all mine, though! 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

**In re the summary, has anyone got any ideas how I could make it better - I don't think it gives a very good idea of what the story's about. Or maybe it does. I don't know, hence the problem.**

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty - Don't Get Buried in Guilt**

The next morning, when Faith awoke, she found Wesley asleep on the couch in the living room. She got some breakfast without disturbing him, then curled up in an armchair, watching the sleeping man. But soon, as time passed, her thoughts moved down more disturbing avenues. Mental images of Wesley the last time she had been loose in LA flashed across her mind, followed by other images - the archaeologist she had killed, the Mayor's aide, all the hurt she had caused - looking down into her own face, filled with hate, when she had changed places with Buffy. She shifted restlessly, eyes closed, tears seeping from beneath her lashes. A sound stirred her, and she looked up to find Wesley regarding her, his eyes seeming all the more intense without his glasses on. 

"Don't get buried in the guilt, Faith. You've done a lot of bad things, but then, so have most people. You have a chance to change - don't spoil your life by spending it in guilt." 

"I've done so much wrong." 

"Yes, you have. But don't for one moment imagine that you're the only person in the world who has." 

"You don't-" 

"You've met Fred, haven't you?" At her nod, Wesley sat up and continued. "I chased her round the hotel with an axe. I hit her. I would have killed her." His voice dropped, tinged with remembered shame. "She was so afraid." 

"Oh, come on, Wes! There was some evil mojo working, or something." He looked at her in surprise. 

"Well, yes, but that's not the point. All that violence, those urges, they were already in me. Now, I can spend the rest of my life feeling guilty over it - and, believe me, that was looking like an option for a while - or I can get over it, and try and get on with my life." 

"But the people I killed - I hurt. They'll never forgive-" Wesley interrupted her before she could finish. 

"It's not about them forgiving you, Faith. Sometimes that's not ever going to happen. A dead person can't forgive. But it's not their forgiveness that's important. You have to learn to forgive yourself." 

*** *** *** 

"Okay, what is _she_ doing here?" Cordelia stood defiantly, hands on hips. "I thought she was supposed to be off cosying with Wolfram & Hart?" 

"Kinda hard to cosy with a snake, C." 

"Calm down, Cordelia. Faith has been charged with finding Connor's whereabouts, and if she is to convince them that she knows, there has to be some sign that she's been here." 

"Tell them where Connor - Wesley, are you out of your tiny little mind?" 

"Cordelia, be a doll and keep the noise level down, will you? Jeez, another two o'clock feeding and Pylea'll start to look good." Lorne came sauntering into the main section of Caritas, ice pack in hand, stopping at the sight of Wesley and Faith. "Lord, more people! If you're annoying Cordelia, do me a favour and go away. Hottie she may be, but she's got a voice that cuts like a chainsaw." He gaze narrowed in on Faith, and he stepped towards her. "My, you're a turbulent one, aren't you? Fancy doing a little song for me, sweetheart?" 

Faith looked in disbelief while Cordelia snickered in the background. 

"What?" Wesley stepped in hurriedly. He didn't think violence was in the offing - not to mention the fact it was impossible in Caritas - but Faith's tongue could be violent in itself, and the last thing he needed was Lorne going all huffy. 

"This is Lorne. He's an anagogic demon - he can read people's auras. When they sing." 

"Yeah, Faith, choose a number. Y'know, something along the lines of, "I Like to Kill People, Hey Diddle Diddle" or "The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Violence". 


	21. Sing Something Simple

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. Brother Anselm is all mine, though! 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

Okay, normally I hate songfics, but, hey, this is Caritas! The song is by Jewel: "Please Don't Say I Love You". 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-One - Sing Something Simple**

Faith sat on a bar stool, silently cursing Cordelia for her enthusiastic seconding of Lorne's proposal. Then she cursed Wesley for not putting a stop to it. Then Lorne, for being able to read auras in the first place. And finally she cursed Fred and Gunn, who, unfortunately, as far as Faith was concerned, had wandered in to find out what all the noise was. 

Please don't say I love you   
Those words touch me much too deeply   
And they make my core tremble   
Don't think you realise the effect you have over me   
And please don't come so close   
It just makes me want to make you near me always 

She was obviously not used to singing, and she wavered slightly on some of the notes, clearly uncomfortable about being in the spotlight. It was a soft, almost plaintive song, and Wesley listened intently. 

Please don't kiss me so sweet   
It makes me crave a thousand kisses to follow   
And please don't touch me like that   
Makes every other embrace seem pale and shallow   
Please don't look at me like that   
It jsut makes me want to make you near me always 

Faith felt like dying, right there and then. What on earth had possessed her to sing that song? Why couldn't she have gone with some rock number, or something along the lines of, "Bitch"? Instead she chose a song that, as she sang it, seemed to tear open everything she felt inside. 

Please don't send me flowers   
They only whisper the sweet things you'd say   
Don't try to understand me   
Your hands already know too much anyway   
It just makes me want to make you near me always 

She stopped abruptly, even though there was another verse to go, and slid off the stool, crossing her arms against her middle. Wesley was propped up against the bar, his eyes fixed on her, and he smiled as she looked at him. Cordelia stood to one side, her head tilted assessingly; Fred and Gunn sat at one of the tables together. Then Faith turned to Lorne, the one who was supposed to be reading her aura. 

"Well?" 

"You are mixed up, aren't you, sweetie?" She didn't say anything, just continued to stare at himm until he gave an exaggerated sigh. "Okay, you want to know what I see?" 

"Don't tell me. I'm at a crossroads. I have to make a decision." 

"Oh no, sweetie. You made your decision a long time ago." That sardonic half smile fell from Faith's lips, and she looked at him in undisguised fear. 

"What? God, I made a mistake, but I want to make it right!" 

"Okay, Lorne, you can't just say she's stuck in kill-pussycat-kill world. I mean, yep, violent hell bitch, but if she wants to change, she can. Plus, let's not forget, your aura reading - not top of the line." Bizarrely, it was Cordelia who spoke, and Faith looked at her, amazed, before turning back to Lorne, a defiant expression on her face, noticing, from the corner of her eye, Wesley's concerned look. But the green-skinned singer was shaking his head at her. 

"No, cupcake, you misunderstand. You made your decision - you've decided you want to be on the side of the - forgive the pun - angels. That's not your problem." 

"Then what-" 

"Guilt. That's your biggie. It's streaming off you, sweetie, and really fouling up your aura. You're in grave danger of becoming as bad as our resident brooder. And that's no laughing matter. You want to get out of the darkness, but first you have to get the darkness out of yourself. Let the past go - learn from it, but don't go all angstville about it." 

"That's what..." Faith trailed off, but her eyes flitted towards Wesley, and Lorne couldn't withold a grin. He leaned forward. 

"Between you and me, cupcake, that's a pretty wise little owl you've got over there." 


	22. Put the Past in the Past

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. Brother Anselm is all mine, though! 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Two - Put the Past in the Past**

Cordelia entered the ladies' toilets, and leant against the sink, looking at Faith calmly. 

"You really have a problem with the whole people thing, don't you," she offered idly. 

"Really none of your business, C," snapped Faith, drying her hands on a towel. "Look, I didn't want to sing, anyway, so just fuck off." Cordelia raised her hands. 

"Hey, you don't need to get all killer queen about it. I'm just saying, I understand how it can be," 

"You don't understand a thing, _Queen_ C. Look, I sang, I had my fortune told - all in a day's work, right?" Cordelia walked close, till she was nose to nose with the slayer. 

"Okay, Faith, I know you've had problems, not least of which was murdering half my home town, but we're trying to cut you a break here - God knows why. So just take a little advice, okay?" 

"I'm all ears." Cordelia pointedly ignored Faith's sarcasm. 

"Trust us. You can let us in. We're not the kind of people who are going to turn our backs on you. Now, Angel and Wesley have decided they want to help you, and that means, like it or not, the rest of us are in on it too." With that, she turned and left the ladies', leaving Faith standing alone in the empty room, her only companion the sound of the dripping tap. 

*** *** *** 

Later that evening, back at Wesley's flat, Faith was quiet, all through dinner and the washing up. Once everything was tidy once more, Wesley sat down with the latest Harry Potter book (a secret addiction he had so far managed to keep from the rest of the team at Angel Investigations). Faith was restless again, and he was about to suggest that she go out patrolling, when she suddenly spoke. 

"Wesley, I…" She broke off, and he waited, somehow sure that what she wanted to say was important. 

"What is it?" She looked unsure for a moment and Wesley leaned forward, afraid that she would back out. 

"You know what happened… the last time." He nodded, his face serious. "When Angel took me back, I said I didn't know how to say I was sorry. Angel asked me if I was - sorry, I mean." She stood up suddenly, clearly disturbed by what she was saying. "The thing is, I'm not sure that I was. I'm not sure I felt anything. But now -" She turned, and looked at him, her gaze steady. "I _am_ sorry, Wesley. I - I can't say I shouldn't have done it. I mean, I shouldn't, but that's obvious. God, I'm not doing this very well. All I want to say is, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you." Wesley smiled. 

"I know you are," he said softly. "It's not something I will ever forget. But I understand why you felt as you did, and I _do_ forgive you." Faith looked at the older man for a moment, sitting there, understanding shining from his eyes, then she smiled, a radiant smile that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. 

"Thank you, Wesley. And…" She took a deep breath. "I never got it right," she said in a rush. "Slaying. I never got it, not really. Not like Buffy did. I never understood - but I want to. I want to do it properly. 

"Wesley, will you be my watcher again?" 


	23. According to Reginald Mayhew in 1822

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. Brother Anselm is all mine, though! 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Three - According to Reginald Mayhew in 1822**

The following morning Wesley was back at the Hyperion. Downstairs he found Angel, still immersed in "Thor's Revenge". So immersed, in fact, that he didn't look up when Wesley entered the boiler room. 

"I would imagine that Thor has got his revenge," he noted wryly. Angel looked up, and had he not been dead, he probably would have blushed. 

"Wesley, I didn't hear you come in." 

"Obviously." Wesley came further into the room and sat down. "I talked to Faith last night. She's going to wait a day or two before going back to Wolfram & Hart." He sat quietly for a moment, then spoke again. "She asked me to be her watcher again." Angel looked at him in surprise. 

"Really?" Wesley nodded. 

"I made such a mess last time I'm surprised that she's willing to let me." 

"She wants to do it right." 

"I know. I just hope I make a better watcher this time than I did before." 

"Wes, when you first came to Sunnydale, you were completely inexperienced. Hell, you hadn't even seen a vampire before. You've changed a lot. Of course you can do this." Wesley seemed to perk up somewhat at Angel's confident tone. His failure to help Faith when she had been crying out for it the only way she knew how still haunted him - perhaps as much as her sins haunted her. And now he had the opportunity to make it right, to teach Faith the things she had never had the chance to learn. He exchanged a few words with Angel, then went upstairs, into his office, and his books. 

*** *** *** 

"Now, you need to find your essence; focus on the very centre of your being." Faith barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She hadn't really known what to expect when she asked Wesley to be her watcher again. She knew she needed help, needed guidance in her life as a slayer. It wasn't just, well, kill-pussycat-kill, as Cordelia phrased it. There was depth and meaning to it - it was like a mission kinda thing. Unfortunately, Wesley seemed to have returned to his pompous best, prating watchers' diaries and arcane texts. But Faith was determined to do this properly, and instinct told her that Wesley was the one to help her - though it was entirely possible that she would die from boredom before she got much further. 

"According to Reginald Mayhew in 1822, a slayer needs-" Wesley was cut off by a flamboyant knocking on the door and heaved a sigh of irritation. "Look, I'm really rather - oh, it's you." 

"Jeez, don't get too enthusiastic, now, will you? Faith, honey, you're looking positively gorgeous upside down. I had a feeling I should come along and see how everything was going." 

"Well, thank you, Lorne, but we really are in the middle of something, so if you don't mind…" Completely ignoring Wesley's lack of hospitality, the Host sauntered in and, flicking aside a pair of boxers, sat down in style on the sofa. 

"Faith, my sweet, I'm feeling a little parched. You couldn't be a doll and get me something to drink, could you?" At his pointed look, Faith reluctantly went into the kitchen, leaving her newfound slayer alone with his guest. 

"Lorne, I really do appreciate your coming by to check everything is all right, but…" Again Lorne interrupted him. 

"I hear you've been reinstated as official watcher. Congrats of the highest order." 

"Thanks…but how did you…?" 

"Oh, ear to the ground, demon grapevine - the usual. But I want to ask you a question." 


	24. The Wrong Things All Over Again

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Four - The Wrong Things All Over Again**

Curiosity overcame Wesley's irritation at being interrupted, and he sat down. 

"What?" 

"Way back when, in you first attempt at being watcher, what went wrong?" 

"Lorne, I fail to see what this has to…" 

"Now, play nice, Wesley. Answer the question." Wesley heaved a sigh of exasperation. 

"I played everything by the book, but I didn't know what I was talking about. Faith's - and Buffy's - experiences as a slayer were completely different to what I'd expected following my training. I tried to force them to do things according to the watchers' council rules when it wasn't appropriate. Plus I was something of a stick-in-the-mud," he added reluctantly. 

"Mmhmm. And what was the first thing you did after Faith asked you to be her watcher again?" Wesley looked at him, confusion writ plain on his face. 

"I went to see Angel." Lorne sighed. 

"No, after that." 

"I went to collect all my books on being a watcher - the diaries, all the…" He trailed off, leant back, closed his eyes, and groaned. "Oh God. I'm doing it again, aren't I?" Lorne watched sympathetically as he rubbed his face with his hand. "I get a second chance, and I just start doing the wrong things all over again. I thought man was supposed to learn from his mistakes!" He laughed bitterly. "I don't know why I even agreed to do this. I'm completely unsuitable for this sort of…" 

"What the hell did you say to him?" Faith came striding out of the kitchen, eyes ablaze, looking at Lorne as if she wanted to do him some serious damage. Lorne, who was nobody's fool, took one look at her and sat as far back in the sofa as possible, probably hoping to avoid grievous bodily harm. 

"Faith, he's right, this isn't…" Once again Wesley was interrupted as Faith stood in front of him, glaring down. 

"What? You're giving up?" He rose to meet her, carefully placing his hands on her shoulders. 

"Faith, let's face it, I'm no good at this sort of thing. You need someone…" 

"Oh, yeah, right, I need Mr Perfect Watcher. Well, guess what, Wes? I'm not Miss Perfect Slayer. I don't want some…some _paragon_ teaching me." Her hands lifted, resting on his forearms. "I want _you_, Wesley." 

"Actually, I didn't mean that you should stop being her watcher." Lorne, judging that Faith was no longer set on endangering his person, stood up as well. "I just meant that you should change your methods. You're a good man, Wesley, and a good leader. You know exactly the sort of things you should be teaching. You just have to separate being a watcher from being what the watchers' council taught you to be. Now, must dash. God knows what I'll find when I get back. Trouble magnet doesn't come close to describing those kids." He was as good as his word, and two minutes later Wesley and Faith were alone again. They looked at each moment, then Wesley broke the silence. 

"Well, I suppose, if you still want me…" He hesitated, but Faith had read his agreement in his eyes, and she gave an uncharacteristic squeal of delight and flung her arms round him. Wesley stood stock still, stunned for a moment, before relaxing and hugging her back. A beat; two beats, and they separated, both looking faintly embarrassed. Faith sat down in an armchair. Wesley sat down on the sofa, and idly picked up a book. There was silence. Then: 

"So, I don't suppose you'll be wanting to hear what Reginald Mayhew had to say, then." 

Five seconds later the cushion previously languishing in the armchair was airborne, its trajectory perfectly calculated to get Wesley in the head. 


	25. Going All Super Villain

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Five - Going All Super Villain**

"He's in the demon karaoke bar." 

"Caritas." 

"There's some green-faced lounge lizard taking care of him, as well as the rest of Angel's band of merry men." 

"They just let you in?" 

"No violence, right? They didn't have a choice." 

"You're sure it was Angel's child." 

"Yeah, I'm sure." Lilah was quiet for a moment. Faith, sitting casually in a chair in front of the wide desk, looked around with mild curiosity, then focused again on the silent woman. "So, what next? Do want me to-" She made a crude gesture indicative of a gruesome - and deliberate - death, grinning at the look of distaste on Lilah's face. 

"No. The senior partners have an interest in the child. Keep an eye on him." Faith shrugged. 

"Hey, you're the boss." Lilah leaned forward, her chin on her hand, and viewed Faith critically. A seed of suspicion had been planted by one of the junior workers, and she was anxious to see how Faith would react. 

"I hear Mr Wyndham-Pryce is still alive." By not a flicker did Faith betray herself. 

"So?" 

"I thought you said he was dead." 

"I don't remember saying that. I certainly don't remember killing him." 

"I'm surprised. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't think you had much love for him." 

"Oh, Wesley has his entertaining moments. But you can't honestly think he's a serious threat. He's a loser; he's pathetic." 

"But…entertaining." 

"Exactly!" Faith smiled, and Lilah recalled the reports from the first time the slayer had roamed the streets of LA. Word was, Faith had had a little fun torturing her ex-watcher. The tension in Lilah's shoulders relaxed somewhat, her suspicions eased. Faith was not someone she could bring herself to trust, but from what Lilah had gathered, Angel was the only one who connected with Faith - as far as the rest of his "merry men" were concerned, Faith could go hang. And they seemed to feel that literally. 

Before long, Faith was on her way, with strict instructions to keep an eye on the child. Hardly five minutes passed before the door to Lilah's office opened again, and her current bête noir, Gavin Parks, walked in, unannounced. 

"Don't you have a building permit to revoke somewhere?" she asked irritably as sat down smugly. 

"Don't be unprofessional, Lilah," he replied smoothly, incidentally annoying her even further. "I heard about Angel. Is it true?" 

"He's dead, if that's what you mean." She was fully aware that Gavin was trying to get a grip on her game plan, and she had no intention of giving him such an advantage. She got rid of him as soon as possible, avoiding his subtler questioning, and reverting to downright ignoring when they got more pointed. The senior partners no longer had much of an interest in Angel - it was his child who had got their attention. According to the Nyzerian scrolls, the child would play a crucial part in, well, in the fight of good against evil. And the senior partners wanted him batting for evil. 


	26. Hush, Little Baby

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Six - Hush, Little Baby**

Gavin Parks was a quiet, methodical man, who believed in dotting the i's and crossing the t's. He lacked the flashy brilliance of Lindsey MacDonald, but he knew how to work the system in his own way. And some people entirely failed to realise that, chief of whom was Lilah Morgan. If he was her bête noir, then she was equally his. He was smart enough to realise that she wanted to keep an eye on Angel's child, and he was determined to make it difficult for her. 

Connor was an important child, and there were a lot of people interested in him. A lot of people who would be perfectly happy if the child didn't make his first birthday. And the senior partners would not be happy with their head of special projects if she, say, let the child disappear. 

*** *** *** 

The Brothers of the Order of Absolom had heard of the birth of the miracle child, but had, as yet, done nothing about it. Their days were filled with important matters, and the child was not high on the list of their priorities. But when they received a message informing them of the child's whereabouts and, moreover, that those whereabouts left him vulnerable to capture, they decided that they may as well do what must be done. As Brother Andrew pointed out, they'd have to do it sooner or later. 

*** *** *** 

Hush little baby, don't say a word  
Cordy's going to buy you a mockingbird  
And if that mockingbird don't sing  
Cordy's going to buy you a diamond ring 

Cordelia sang softly, gazing lovingly at the baby she held in her arms. As the final words petered out, Connor's eyelids fluttered one last time, and he slept. With a faint sigh of relief, Cordelia settled him down gently into the carrycot that was his temporary home. She kissed him on the head, then left the room quietly, making sure to leave the door open. 

Downstairs, the rest of the group - well, Fred, Gunn and Lorne, at any rate - were gathered. Gunn had come up with the sterling idea of getting Fred…well, not drunk exactly, but perhaps just the teensiest bit tipsy. Fred sober was an entertaining spectacle, tipsy she was more so, and she was expounding wildly on her theory regarding the exponential growth of the number of biros one lost as the two men looked on indulgently. 

"Connor's asleep then," observed Gunn, tearing his gaze from the eccentric young physicist. 

"Brilliant deduction, oh wise one," replied Cordelia, who was beginning to get generally fed up by the whole situation. She was practically locked away in Caritas, which was a swell place to be when either depressed and/or looking for information about demon scum, but frankly she just wanted a bath tub, a loofah, and Dennis. "Yep, he's finally dropped off - after about fifty attempts at "Hush little baby". Why can't babies appreciate a wider repertoire? Cause, you know, I'm kinda running out of rhymes." 

Gunn was about to offer, "Hush little baby, don't get mad / Gunn is going to get you a Playboy mag", when a faint scuffle from upstairs alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. He raced up the stairs, ignoring the stunned faces of the other three. He burst into Connor's room, Cordelia at his heels, Lorne and Fred moments behind. He was too late. The window was wide open, the chill breeze circulating the room. The only movement was the faint sway of the mobile Lorne had rigged up above the carry cot; the only sound the distant hum of traffic, and their rushed breathing. 

Connor was gone. 


	27. The Brothers of Absolom

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Brothers of Absolom**

Wesley was close to tracking down the source of a niggle that had been bugging him for several days now. He was ensconced in his office at the Hyperion, books around him, in, what for him, passed as seventh heaven. The day was sunny, there didn't _appear_ to be any hell beasties bent on the world's imminent destruction, and he rather suspected that Wolfram & Hart had no plans with regard to Connor, after all; they just wanted to keep track of him. And, now that he had got over his watcher = watchers' council mindset, it was to be hoped that he and Faith could genuinely reach a proper slayer/watcher relationship. 

The book he had been studying slipped from his fingers, but Wesley paid it no heed. Faith. She was an endlessly fascinating person, and one he was only just beginning to understand. There was no doubt that she had endured a lousy childhood, and Wesley knew as well as anyone the scars that could cause. Despite the traumas of the last few years, it looked as if she would be able to put the worst of it behind her. Even now, she showed signs of being able to get on with her life, though Wesley suspected the path would get rockier before Faith could really find peace. 

His ruminations were halted suddenly when the sound of running footsteps alerted him to the fact that there was someone else in the hotel. Somewhat alarmed, he jumped up and out of the office, entering the foyer in time to see Cordelia dashing down the stairs, her face pale. 

"Cordy! What's happened?" he exclaimed, catching hold of her as she came close. 

"Oh, Wes, thank God!" Her knees seemed to give way, and he helped her to the sofa, by now seriously concerned. 

"What is it?" 

"Connor. They've taken Connor!" Before he could say another word, the main doors to the hotel swung open, and in strode angel, looking every inch the dark avenger. His black leather coat billowed around him, and his face was set and grim. In his hand he carried a crossbow, and Wesley knew the vampire well enough to guess that there was a multitude of hidden weapons about his person. 

"Some sect called the Brothers of Absolom have got him down by the docks, according to the snitch down on 24th Street." He barely acknowledged Wesley, making straight for the weapons cupboard. 

"The Brothers of…Of course! I wondered…Angel, where have you been?" Angel ignored him, intent on his job, until a hand on his arm caused him to turn. He looked at the other man, whose face also seemed oddly grim. "Where have you been?" The question was enunciated slowly and clearly, as if Wesley was speaking to a child who might not understand. Angel looked at him blankly. 

"Followed them as far as that club on 24th, then nothing. Got hold of the snitch. Now I'm going to get my son." His tone made it clear he would brook no opposition, but Wesley was not swayed. 

"You went out. Out into the open, when all of Los Angeles is under the impression that you're dead. That _Faith_ killed you." 

"Wesley, I don't have time…" 

"Well, if you'd just waited five minutes, if you'd had the sense to tell me what had happened, I could have told you that the Brothers of Absolom would not hurt Connor. In fact, I would imagine they've already taken him back by now." He waved the book he was still holding in his hand in Angel's face. "They wanted to _bless_ him, Angel." 

"Wesley, if you don't get out of my way this…" Before he could finish, there was the sound of more running, and Fred and Gunn burst in, Gunn carrying a small bundle. 

"It's all right, he's back!" 

"Connor!" Angel broke free of Wesley's grasp, and ran to his son, a smile lighting his face as he held the baby close. The others crowded round, rejoicing at the child's return. 

"Some monk brought him back," explained Fred, as she patted the small hand waving about. "They just gave him a blessing, he said." Angel stilled, and looked up at Wesley, who stood apart from the small group. His face was grim, his eyes cold. He advanced on Angel, then stopped. 

"If anything happens to her because of what you did, I will never forgive you." 


	28. Hell to Pay

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Eight - Hell to Pay**

Wesley was once again tucked away in his office, but the optimistic attitude of an hour earlier had vanished. Several phone calls to his flat had reached only his answer machine, and after leaving a message for Faith to call him, he had given up. Reminding himself that Faith was, of all people, perfectly capable of looking after herself did nothing to alleviate his increasing feelings of anxiety. Somehow, deep in his gut, he knew that she was in danger. Angel in a fervour of parental paranoia would not have been discreet, and there was almost no chance of Wolfram & Hart being unaware of the small fact that their recent arch-nemesis was still alive. 

"Sod this!" he exclaimed bitterly, and he was reaching for his jacket when the door to the office opened, and Cordelia's head popped round. 

"Hey, Wes," she said softly, stepping further into the room as her boss made no reply. "Look, do you think…" 

"What I think, Cordelia, is that Faith could be in serious danger, thanks to Angel, and I am going to find her." 

"About Angel - he was just worried…" Wesley interrupted her again. 

"There were half a dozen people who could have gone after Connor, which, had he bothered to think about, Angel would have known perfectly well. If he'd given it a moment's thought, he would have realised the risk to Faith. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look for her." He made to walk past Cordelia, but she moved in front of him. 

"Well, you're being just as bad, charging off on your white horse!" she declared, somewhat recklessly given Wesley's current mood. He turned an icy gaze on her. 

"I'm the only one Faith has." He stalked round her, and a moment later she heard the clang of the hotel doors as he left. She sighed. It was bad enough that Wesley and Angel were at outs with each other, but there was now a growing concern about Faith. She walked slowly into the foyer, where Fred and Gunn were sitting quietly. Angel was walking Connor, cooing into the baby's ear. She went up to him. He looked down, started to smile, then stopped as she punched him in the arm. 

"You are such an idiot, Angel!" 

"What?!" He looked at her in disbelief. "Cordy, Connor disappeared. What, you thought I was going to sit here and not do anything?" Though Cordelia could appreciate how he felt, she wasn't going to let him slide off the hook. 

"Oh, and none of us could have gone after him?" she asked, conveniently overlooking the fact that she had been what could only have been described as a basket case. "Like Wes said, you could have waited, like, two seconds. And they weren't going to hurt him anyway." 

"Cordy…" 

"I just hope Faith is all right, 'cause there's going to hell to pay if something's happened to her. And I'm not just talking about Wes, okay?" 


	29. Needing Someone

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Twenty-Nine - Needing Someone**

Faith was kicking herself. Her instincts had been screaming warnings at her the moment she walked into Lilah Morgan's plush office, but she had ignored them, convinced she was just being paranoid. And anyway, she was the slayer. What were they going to do - set a vampire on her? 

The meeting had started out amicably enough - or at least, as amicable as they got. There wasn't really a reason for Faith to have shown up, but Wesley had been afraid that if they didn't hear from her often, they might seek other ways to observe Connor, ways over which he, Angel and the others had no control. So she had decided to brave the lion in his - or in this case, her - den, and deliver an update report. She had also come to ask for something else to do, figuring that it was out of character for the Faith they believed her to be to be content with being a glorified baby sitter. 

"It's interesting that you should ask," replied Lilah smoothly when Faith brought the subject up. "Because I hear that your jobs have a tendency to go unfinished." Faith looked at her blankly. There was no way she could know Angel was alive; the bitch was just rattling her cage, trying to test her the way she had with Wesley. 

"You need to start listening to other people, Lilah," she responded calmly. "People who know what they're talking about." Lilah smiled, and Faith tensed. It wasn't a nice smile, and it _really_ didn't bode well. A movement behind her caught Faith's attention, and she started to whirl, but it was too late. The electric current caught her in the side, and she fell, unconscious, to the floor. 

"No, actually I like the people I listen to." Lilah spoke coldly, then gestured to the man who had come in. "Take her away. I'll call you later." 

*** *** *** 

So now Faith was locked in what looked suspiciously like a meat locker. The walls were metal, and thick metal from what she could tell. She could see the outline of the door, but there was no handle and no hinges on her side, and though she had been kicking and shoving at it repeatedly there was no sign that it was about to give way. Furthermore, it was starting to get cold. She shivered, then cursed herself for not taking more care. She had got blasé about the threat Wolfram & Hart posed - somehow they had discovered that Angel was alive, but she should have been ready for that. She kicked at the door, almost peevish in her self-condemnation. 

Wesley. She relaxed slightly at the thought of her reinstated watcher. A week ago she wouldn't have put odds on his coming to her rescue, but now…well, he'd come for her, that she knew with an iron certainty. But time passed, and that certainty faded with doubts, and finally near panic. Sure, Wes would come after her, but what if he couldn't find her? No, that wasn't right. Wesley was the brainiest man she had ever met, even more so than Giles. It might take a little while - she didn't imagine she was inside a building with a huge "Faith Is Here" sign hovering over it - but he's be able to find her. But then what? Wolfram & Hart seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of musclebound goons ready and willing to do their bidding. What if Wesley had come up against them and been hurt? Been killed? Sure, he had managed that chauffeur chap all right, but presumably he had had the element of surprise. Whoever was guarding her here would be on their guards. 

The more she thought about it, despite the advice of her more sensible self, the more panicky Faith became. She couldn't let anything happen to Wesley, she just couldn't. Not after all they had been through. Loath as she was to admit such a weakness, Faith finally realised that she needed someone other than herself. She needed Wesley 


	30. The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Lawyers....

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty - The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Lawyers...**

Lilah Morgan was pissed off. Angel was alive after all, she had made a major error of judgement regarding Faith, and Gavin Parks was continuing to rear his okay-not-so-ugly-after-all head. In fact, the only thing that kept her from being _royally_ pissed off was that Gavin's cunning plan to endanger _her_ cunning plan had turned out to be not so cunning after all, a fact she intended to point out to him with no small amount of satisfaction. But that didn't lessen the blow of Faith's betrayal. Lilah's mouth curved into a smile. Putting Faith in a meat locker in order to give her time to really contemplate her approaching gruesome death, now _that_ lessened that blow. 

However, the fact remained that Angel was alive and kicking. Well, technically, dead, but still very much kicking. Faith would be the bait - there was clearly something between vampire and slayer, and Lilah was betting that Angel would be over post haste to find out where the girl was. And then… Lilah smiled again, a smile of victory; one that didn't lessen as she entered her office to find a tall figure lurking in the shadows. 

"Angel, Angel, you are _so_ predictable," she purred, crossing to her desk. With a quick flick of her wrist she flung the glass of water sitting next to her blotter in the direction of the vampire's head, then reached into her top drawer for the stake she kept there. If hiring assassins wasn't going to work, then Lilah was determined to make sure it happened herself. As her mother had always said, if you want something doing, do it yourself. Unfortunately, it didn't work quite as she planned, for instead of reacting to the burning, face-melting pain, Angel leaped forward, and before she knew where she was, Lilah was awkwardly positioned, a harsh hand on the back of her neck keeping her face pressed against the desk. Then he spoke, and she realised she'd made yet another serious error of judgement. 

"As are you, Lilah." It wasn't the dark broody voice of the vampire. This was lighter, more precise. English. She would have said his name, calmly, coolly, putting the ball back in her court. Unfortunately, she was afraid anything she said would come out half-choked, and she remained silent. She tried to lift her head, but the hand, surprisingly strong, gripped more firmly, and held her down. 

"Where is she, Lilah?" The voice came again, and she registered the anger and suppressed violence in it. She said nothing, and the hand clenched tighter around her neck, so that breathing became something of an issue. She reassessed the situation. Anger and unsuppressed violence. Not a good combination. There were no security cameras in her office. The Englishman was as human as she, so he wouldn't have set off any alarms, and he wasn't a familiar face to Wolfram & Hart: their main experiences of being broken into by Angel Investigations involved Angel. So, the cavalry wasn't on its way. The man holding her down was something of an unknown quantity, but she wasn't about to bet her life on the fact that he wouldn't seriously hurt her. She choked something out, and felt the pressure ease. 

"A warehouse - down on Hay's Marina. There's a big red sign out front." The pressure tightened once more, and Lilah felt her oxygen supply being cut off. Spots were swimming in front of her eyes, then suddenly she was free. She slipped down onto her knees, massaging her throat. After a moment, she sat in her chair, and reached for her phone. 

"Lilah Morgan here. A Mr Wyndham-Pryce is headed your way. Feel free to deal with him as you see fit." 


	31. The Lone Ranger

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD **

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, please review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-One - The Lone Ranger**

Hay's Marina was down by the docks, and at this time of night would be pretty much deserted. Wesley walked slowly down the drive, keeping a look out for any signs of trouble. He found the warehouse Lilah had named, a large red escarpment declaring "Worth Industries". He glanced at his watch - half an hour since leaving the Wolfram & Hart building. Not long enough. As Wesley had said to Angel, he wasn't a fool: calling whoever was guarding Faith was probably the first thing Lilah had done, and he found himself wishing that he had knocked her senseless. Rummaging through his jacket pocket, he pulled out his mobile, squinted at it, then redialled Gunn's number. Wesley wasn't a coward by any means, but he wasn't keen to go charging into that warehouse alone. But there was no answer - again. He grimaced, and considered calling the Hyperion, then decided against it. 

He waited, skulking in the shadows, letting enough time to pass for whoever was in there to drop their guard. After what seemed to be about most of the night (though, on further inspection of his watch, only about forty minutes has passed), Wesley emerged from the darkness, and made his way cautiously to the warehouse entrance. There were no lights apparent, and he slipped inside, careful to make no more noise than necessary. He froze as someone passed by him, footsteps ringing out against the concrete floor. Then a door opened and closed and there was silence again. Wesley moved towards the door, and eased it open. Light spilled through the doorway, and Wesley looked into the back room. There were three men. One sat on a stool a few yards from a further door, one with a metal handle. He was cleaning a gun slowly, methodically. Of the other two, one was talking on his phone, from the sound of it, to his wife or girlfriend. Or his mother, Wesley thought wryly, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips as the hired thug uttered a strangled "Mom!" The other was propped up against the far wall, cigarette in hand. As he watched them, there was a series of muffled thuds from behind the other door, and the man on the stool looked up from his gun. 

"She's a feisty little thing, isn't she?" he observed to no-one in particular. 

"She's hot," opined the cigarette smoker. "Think we'll get to play?" The other man laughed, and twirled his gun around, as a schoolboy would, trying to be a cowboy. 

"Hey, I'm always ready for a few games. And I don't reckon anyone's going to object if we…take a sample." Wesley's blood boiled at the man's crude words, and he clenched his hands, too well aware, even in his fury, that to leap out now would probably just end in his getting shot. He backed away, almost trembling with rage. At least from what they said it was unlikely that they'd touched Faith, but he had to get her out of there. 

He quickly left the warehouse, and ran softly round to the back. A series of windows, with grilles across, were lit, and he could hear the murmur of the men's voices. Further along there were no more windows, but he could hear the hum of a generator and then there was a vent blowing out warm air into the Los Angeles night. A temperature controlled room, then. Probably one of those refrigerated deals. Wesley swore under his breath. There was no telling how long Faith might have been in there. Then he corrected himself. Angel had only gone AWOL earlier that day. It would have taken time for Wolfram & Hart to find out, and to track down Faith. She would be all right. 

She had to be. 


	32. Flashing Before Her Eyes

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Two - Flashing Before Her Eyes**

It was cold and her shoulder hurt. 

Her shoulder hurt and it was cold. 

Stuck in a freezing ice box, these were the two thoughts dominating Faith's mind. LA was not really the kind of place in which one dressed for the colder elements, and Faith was regretting the fact that on leaving for Wolfram & Hart than morning, she hadn't worn something different - say a fur coat and a thermal vest. Instead, there she was, clad only in her trademark leather trousers and thin t-shirt. She was, moreover, not wearing a bra, the lack of which she had felt keenly when she had woken in her current position. She could hear the men in the other room quite clearly, which surprised her, and what she had heard had scared her. Sex for her had always been a game, or, more usually a tool. She had always been in control; men were pawns as she screwed with them - with their heads as well as their pricks, though with a lot of men the two were pretty much interchangeable. 

She gave up battering the door. It didn't seem to be doing any good, and the cold was getting to her. She sat against the wall, knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped round them. She knew she should get up, move, anything to keep the blissful numbness from creeping into her body and soul. Her mind drifted, and she was back in her past. 

The first time Faith had sex was with a quarterback for her high school football team. He was seventeen, a big man in town. His father was the mayor, his mother the president of the Ladies' Association, and Steve himself was class president and would be off to college in the autumn. And Faith - she had been fourteen and white trash. Her father had walked out years ago, and her mother had embraced the concept of the liquor bottle. Small towns were not forgiving of those who did not conform to their ideals, and Faith had learned early that just wanting to conform was never quite enough. She had been young, and if she hadn't been "in love" with Steve, she had certainly had a crush on him. And then, one day, a Tuesday, the miracle had happened. Steve had come up to her after school and asked her if she wanted to go get some ice cream with him. She had been so excited, but too wary to show it. A calm shrug, then she had tilted her head, and uttered a cool, "Okay." 

The ice cream had been swell. But afterwards Faith discovered exactly why he had asked her. She also discovered a whole lot of other stuff. Such as, you couldn't live in a trailer and wear cheap shorts and old sneakers and have breasts and not have slept with at least one member of the football team. Such as, men didn't give a fuck about the women they screwed. Such as, it didn't matter how virtuous you were, or how much you tried to be good, if you didn't look the part, and have the money, then you just didn't count. 

Such as, a quarterback with a small brain and wedding tackle to match couldn't keep his mouth shut. Within a week, the church ladies were looking at her like she was dirt, the other high school girls were whispering behind their hands and giggling when she walked past, the other jocks were lining up for a taste of what golden boy Stevie had got. 

Then she had become the slayer, and at last freedom beckoned. Her watcher had come for her, and although at first she had believed him to be some psycho pervert, she had soon learned her error. And if he hadn't really cared about _her_ so much as the way she could wield a stake, that didn't matter, because he didn't treat her like dirt, and didn't try to sleep with her. And things got better. But then he died. And so Faith came to Sunnydale… 

Sunnydale. The best of times, the worst of times. All in one small, Californian town. She had met Buffy, the other slayer, and Buffy's friends. They were all so open, and, initially, so non-judgmental. Hey, who were they to judge? They had seen enough weirdness that she must seem positively normal. 

And then it all went wrong. 

Faith could pinpoint the exact moment it happened. It wasn't when she killed the mayor's aide. Not then, but afterwards. She had been so shocked, she couldn't think. She just ran. Ran to the motel room, and though about running further. But she couldn't leave Sunnydale, not now. So she ran another way. Her conscience, all the good that was left inside her ran far back into the depths of her mind, leaving nothing but a cold bitch who had nothing left. Of course, every so often the goodness tried to re-emerge. When Angel made a connection with her. When she had taken Buffy's place - no, when she had _been_ Buffy, when people had loved and respected her as they did Buffy. And when she had broken down in Angel's arms after… 

A commotion broke into Faith's dazed mind, and she grasped it eagerly, anxious to avoid thinking about what she had done to Wesley. She clung to the wall, raising herself shakily, her hands almost numb with the cold. She rubbed them together, knowing that she would have to defend herself at some point, knowing that she couldn't die here, like a rack of meat hung out to dry. 

The floor seemed to shift under her feet, and she fell against the wall again, unsteady. An earthquake? Always a possibility in this part of the world. 

"Great!" she muttered under her breath. "I can get squashed like a bug, or freeze to death, or get violently mauled by a buncha thugs. And it looks like we have a winner," she added, her tone reckless, as the door handle began to turn. 


	33. Bring on the Clowns

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Three - Bring on the Clowns**

Wesley grinned in satisfaction as the three men came running out of the building, their eyes glued on the remains of the explosion that had just taken place. A fire had started - ably helped along by a judicious application of petrol - and was in danger of burning down the warehouse. The men were turning the air blue with their curses, but as he watched they started trying to beat out the fire, and one went running for water. 

The first stage of his plan successfully accomplished, Wesley slipped back into the building, and ran swiftly towards the back, praying desperately that he had arrived in time, that all his delays had not cost Faith her life. He barred the door behind, and approached the metal door. The bangs had silenced, and he tried not to think about what that might indicate. 

"Just one more failure…" his mind tried to prompt, but he squashed the thought, and concentrated on opening the door. It was locked, and he cursed, then grinned as a glint of metal caught his eye. The keys were hanging up on a hook by the door, and he reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly, with adrenaline and fear. He fitted the key in the lock, turned, then reached for the handle. 

The door opened slowly, almost creakily, and Wesley stepped forward to peer in, half afraid of what he might see. But then a whirl of dark hair and red material flashed in front of him, and a solid punch caught him in the midsection. But it wasn't as hard as it could have been, and he stood firm, catching the flailing arms in his own, and holding the woman close, feeling the cold flesh beneath the thin material of her clothes. 

"Faith," he murmured, the single word imbued with a world of relief. Then, as the reality of their situation appeared once again on his mental horizon, he repeated her name, more strongly this time, and shook her slightly. 

"Faith - Faith! It's me. You're okay now. It's me." After a moment, she seemed to hear him, and went limp. His heart contracted with concern, and he clasped one arm round her even more tightly as he lifted her face towards his. To his relief, her eyes were open, and the dazed look was leaving them. 

"Wes - you came." It wasn't a question, but a pleased confirmation of what she already knew. He smiled. 

"Yes. Are you all right? I don't think those lads will be gone for much longer, unfortunately…" Never was a truer word spoken, for as he urged her towards the door, the sound of running footsteps became apparent, and a banging started up as they tried to get in. 

"Shit!" Faith looked at Wesley, one eyebrow raised. He looked remorseful, and started to apologise before seeing the teasing light in her eyes. "We're going to have to fight our way out, I'm afraid; the windows are too high. Are you…?" He trailed off, but Faith was more than ready. 

"I'm fine. Bring on the clowns, Wesley!" He edged up to the door, then quickly whipped out the bar holding the door together. He backed away slightly, then as the first man came in, downed him with a scientifically delivered right hook. He backed away further as the gun cleaner came charging at him, and only had a moment to notice the cigarette smoker head straight for Faith before he had his hands full with one vicious son of a bitch. 

Released from the ice box, Faith had soon returned pretty much to normal - sing hey for slayer strength and resilience, and she almost relished the fight. The guy was no match for her, and she made it quick, knocking him senseless after beating the crap out of him. Only slightly out of breath, she picked herself up from the floor, grinning, and turned to where Wesley was similarly engaged. 

Her smile disappeared. 

A deadly looking blade flashed once in the fluorescent light, and then, agonisingly slowly, it descended, and for an instant it felt to Faith as if she was holding it herself. Then reality returned, and the knife plunged into Wesley, eliciting a pain-filled cry. The man raised the knife again, ready to repeat the deed, but he never made it, for the slayer was upon him, fighting as only she knew how. They grappled, and Faith went for control of the knife. He fought back violently, swinging at her almost wildly with the knife, until she caught hold of his arm, and tried to force it from him. But he was strong, though she was stronger, and it was hard. They were clasped hard together, then they rolled, and somehow, in some way, that knife was buried in his gut, and Faith lay on top, panting, as the life fled from his eyes. 

She pulled away sharply, and looked down at the body at her feet. 

Wesley. She ran over, caught his hand in hers. His eyes were open, glazed with pain, looking up at her. 

"Faith -" 

"No, don't…don't…" Faith didn't finish. She couldn't. She looked at the blood spilling from him, shining red in the harsh yellow light, running over her hands as she tried to stem the flow. She reached for the phone she knew he carried in his jacket pocket and, in a shaking voice, called for an ambulance. 

She didn't know what to do. The blood continued to flow, despite her hand over the wound. His eyes slowly closed. 

She sat cross-legged, and looked at the body next to her. 


	34. The Emergency Room

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Four - The Emergency Room**

When you are in shock, a hospital is an assault on the senses. The emergency room was always the worst. Bright lights, shouting voices, every now and then an ambulance screaming to a halt outside the big double doors and paramedics rushing in, talking quickly, handing over all the information a doctor or nurse might require. 

Slightly dazed, Faith walked up to the nurses' station, for once unaware of the looks she was receiving. In an ER at three o'clock in the morning you had to look pretty bizarre to attract any attention, and Faith definitely qualified. The tight fitting leather pants were enough to catch the eye of the male contingent, but it was her right arm covered in blood that was the focus of most people's attention. 

But Faith wasn't interested. 

"Excuse me, um…" The nurse turned around and Faith gulped. This was no gentle "ER"-esque Nurse Hathaway. This was a "Carry on Matron" sergeant major type, complete with hairy upper lip. "I'm looking for a friend who was brought in, Wesley Wyndham-" She trailed off, then ran past the station to where a familiar figure was standing, arms akimbo, expression fierce. He looked at her, did a double take, then an expression of pure relief crossed his face, and he stepped forward. 

"Faith!" To her utter astonishment, he folded her in his arms in a brief but heartfelt, hug. "You're all…" He paused as he got a good look at her arm. "You're hurt!" Faith looked down at her arm in mild surprise. 

"No," she replied quietly. "It's…it's not mine." Angel's expression darkened as he realised the import of her words. 

"Wesley," he stated softly. 

"How is he?" The vampire, shrugged. 

"The doctors, they don't… They'll tell us when they know. Um, Faith?" 

"Yeah?" 

"The police are here. Not for you," he added hurriedly. "The paramedics notified them, I think. They don't know what happened, but one was on the phone here, and said that they found a dead guy at the warehouse, and they've traced the phone that made the call to Wesley's cell phone, but they can't find it anywhere." Faith's hand hovered over the pocket in her trousers, an action Angel noted but didn't comment on. 

"What happened?" he asked gently. 

"Lilah was on to me, I don't know how. I don't think I did anything to make her suspect." Angel closed his eyes, a look of anguish contorting his features for a moment, but Faith didn't notice. "They locked me up in a meat locker or something. There were these three guys… I don't know how long I was there; I was out of it for a while, but then Wesley came." She smiled, unaware that she was doing so. "Anyway, he'd distracted the guards, but they came back, we got into a fight - you know how it goes." She stopped, but Angel urged her on, knowing full well that not talking about what happened would only make the memories worse. And Faith had enough to deal with on that front. 

"What then?" 

"One of the guys had a knife. He…God, Angel!" Her voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. "I just stood and watched, and he… The we fought, and I…I didn't mean to kill him!" she cried, the tears falling in earnest now. "I just wanted to stop him, and we were fighting, and it just…it just happened. And there was so much blood, and Wesley…" She was sobbing, her whole body shaking with the emotion she had tried to keep in check. 


	35. The Waiting Room

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Five - The Waiting Room**

St Mary-le-Bow Church had been erected in 1873 by an English clergyman anxious to bring the civility and stability of Victorian London to the wilderness that was the American west. Amazingly, it had stood through earthquakes, fires and floods, and was still standing. Its front was weathered and grey, but it was beautiful in its simplicity. Its chief renown was for its bell tower and the clarity of its bell, which was ringing out the hour. 

As the fifth toll died away, Angel stood impatiently, and began to pace again. Asleep in a chair was Fred, her head resting against Gunn's shoulder. She shifted restlessly, and he looked down, a tender expression in his eyes, before he remembered why they were there, and grim anxiety reappeared. Opposite, Faith sat in another hospital chair, cross-legged, picking at a loose thread in the sweater Angel had found for her. Cordelia sat beside her, still stroking her hair. 

Angel found time to marvel yet again at the changes in Cordelia from when he had first known her. The spoilt princess of five years ago would never have bothered to comfort the distraught girl; wouldn't have known what was needed. But when the three remaining members of Angel Investigations had turned up at the hospital, Cordelia had taken one look at Faith, crying in Angel's arms, and taken her under her wing, whisking her off to the ladies' to let her cry herself out, before washing the blood and dirt away, and putting her in the sweater. Then she had sat with her, not saying anything, just being there. 

"Mr Angel?" At his name, Angel whirled round, ready to confront whatever was to come. A young doctor walked up to him, still dressed in theatre scrubs. Behind him, Angel was aware of the others rising, coming forward, but he kept his eyes on the doctor. 

"What's happened?" he barked. The doctor's eyebrows rose at the menacing tones, but he was used to dealing with patients' families, and took it in his stride. 

"We've operated on Wesley. We stopped the bleeding and repaired most of the damage done by the weapon. He's in recovery now." Cordelia came forward. 

"So, that's it, right? He's going to be okay?" The doctor's face was grave. 

"It's too soon to say. He lost a lot of blood, and there was a great deal of damage to his internal organs, particularly his right kidney. I'm sorry, but at this stage it could go either way." He stopped, sensitive to the effect his words were having on the group standing before him. This was undoubtedly the worst part of his job. When you were in surgery, you were in control, you knew what you were doing. But having to tell the family bad news - that really sucked. 

"Can we see him?" The voice was small, and it took the doctor a moment to localise it. A woman, clad in leather pants and a strangely out of place UCLA sweatshirt, looked at him pleadingly from behind the big guy in the black coat. He opened his mouth to say no, then changed his mind. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was in a bad way, and a visit or two wasn't going to make him any worse than he already was. He nodded reassuringly. 

"Of course. One at a time, though." 

*** *** *** 

Faith looked down at Wesley, her mouth dry, her throat tight, the words she had intended to say lost. He looked so pale, lying there. White against the white sheets. The sterility of the hospital room seemed out of place, after what had happened, as Faith saw once more the brilliant red of the blood pouring from his body. Her throat seized, and she battled down a fresh sob. 

"I…" She stopped, not knowing what to say, lost in the horror of what had happened, of what could still happen. "Wesley, please. Please don't go. I - I need you so much. We all need you, more than you know. Please…" This time she couldn't stop the tears, and they fell, though she had been sure that she had none left. She reached out one hand, and softly stroked one pale cheek. 

"Please, Wesley." 


	36. Brother Anselm, Redux

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Please, _please_ review - I need to know what people think! I have a fragile ego and it needs bolstering! Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed - you have made me a happy person! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Six - Brother Anselm, Redux**

"And thus did Father Robert decide that the dairy shed, built two score years ago by our reverend Brother Theodore, was no longer as bright nor white as once 'twas, and thus he spake to us at the breaking of our fast (which was broken by mead and water and the bread baked by the new miller whose wife was a fine and godly woman) that the Lord had spoken to him, and demanded that we do honour his goats and his sheep and his one lone cow called Daisychain and make once more the dairy shed a fine place. 

"And such was the honour that I, Brother Anselm, was chosen by Father Robert to oversee the painting of the dairy shed with whitewash mixed by the fine wife of the miller. And Brother Edwin and Brother Alfred did do my bidding as they did that of the Lord, and they painted the dairy shed with the whitewash." 

Faith paused, and looked across at the man lying in the bed. Not a flicker declared his awareness of her, and she sighed. The doctor had explained that prolonged unconsciousness was only to be expected, that after the trauma his body had suffered it needed rest, and he would wake when he was better. And that was all very well, but Faith had a sneaking suspicion that the doctor was talking a load of shite. It had been nearly three days, and Wesley still hadn't woken up. He hadn't been alone, though. One of the AI team had been by his bed all the time and… Faith suddenly stopped in her mental meanderings as what she had just thought struck her. One of the team. She gave a short laugh. She had never been part of a team. She just didn't work like that. 

"Jesus, Faith, can you stop thinking about yourself for one second," she berated herself. She shook her head, self-condemnation writ large in her features. 

"Okay, Wes, I really think we're going to have to skip the…" Faith looked up in disbelief, "twenty-seven _pages_ Brother Anselm spends talking about whitewashing the dairy shed, and get to the good stuff." She cleared her throat portentously. "Okay, here goes. And on the Sabbath day, we did run the holy service for the village, and lo, the miller and his good wife did attend, and were much holy throughout. Father Robert did give a rousing sermon and we were much moved by his holiness. And the miller's wife must need brush away a tear from her fair cheek…" Faith slowed to a halt as a shadow darkened the door. 

"Hey." 

"Hi, Angel." 

"How's he doing?" She shrugged. 

"Pretty much the same." Angel entered, treading softly, as if he didn't want to wake the man sleeping there. "I thought I'd take over. You should get some sleep." Faith looked ready to argue, then gave in. 

"Sure. I'll go back to the hotel." At his confused look, she explained. "I took my stuff back over. I mean, I was only staying at Wes's 'cause of the plan." Angel nodded understandingly. 

"Okay." She had nearly left the room, when he called her name. "Faith!" She turned, curious. 

"What?" Angel stood there, feeling guilty. 

"About what happened - how Wolfram & Hart knew I was alive." She looked at him blankly. 

"Angel, it really doesn't…" 

"It was my fault." He looked down at his hands, and continued hurriedly. "These monk guys took Connor, and I went out looking for him. Course, they just wanted to bless him, and I - I totally screwed up, and it got you in trouble, and Wesley…" He stopped, then looked up. "I'm sorry, Faith. I - I should have thought before I acted." Faith looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. 

"Hey, no worries, right? You were just looking out for your kid. I'd probably have done the same. But," she hesitated, then continued, "thanks for thinking you had to apologise." She smiled again, then turned and walked out. 

Angel watched her leave, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. Now he only had Wesley to apologise to, if he woke up. No. _When_ he woke up. He sat down in the chair recently vacated by Faith, and pulled a book from his pocket. The doctor had suggested that they talk or read to Wesley, and the others had jumped on the suggestion. Gunn had taken to reading the evening papers, while Faith was relying on Brother Anselm. As for Angel, well… 

"Okay, so where were we? Right. Thor stared at his woman in disbelief. Wearing only a diaphanous robe of violet silk, she stood before him, daring to challenge his manhood. Her long raven hair flowed behind her like a swath of black satin and her emerald green eyes spat fire. Thor grabbed her and pulled her close to his hard, muscled chest…" 


	37. Back to Normal

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Song is the same one as in "Sing Something Simple". 

I would really _really_ like to thank everyone who has taken the trouble to review this story - it's always a source of major excitement for me to go on-line and discover a new review! In particular-   
Syn: Wow! I really like you story "Scars", and am now feeling v. groovy and cool at the thought of being inspiring. Hoorah!   
Diane: I _live_ for your reviews! Thank you so much for bothering to review each chapter, it's so cool! On the subject of English/American, I concede the "chauffeur chap" wasn't right, and when I go back and correct my assorted typos etc I will change it, "Spoilt" and "apologise" are the English version, though, and so I'll stick with them. The one that always gets me, though, is "pants". Cause "leather pants" sounds much better than "leather trousers", but for me "pants" are men's underwear, so that's kind of weird. Hmm, anyway, I'll stop rambling now... 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Seven - Back to Normal**

After a few hours sleep, Faith was preparing to return to the hospital. Eschewing her more traditional garb, she was wearing jeans and the same UCLA sweater she had worn on the first night at the hospital. If asked, she couldn't say why she kept wearing it; it just seemed right. She finished brushing her hair, then grabbed her bag and Wesley's copy of The Chronicles of Brother Anselm, and headed out, only to find that the hotel foyer had been invaded by a crowd of screaming, leaping lunatics. 

On closer inspection, it turned out to be Cordelia, Fred and Gunn. 

She paused at the foot of the sweeping staircase, until Cordelia caught sight of her and ran over. 

"He's awake, he's awake!" she practically carolled. "Angel rang; he's going to be all right!" Faith stared at her blankly for a moment, then a smile spread slowly across her face. Cordelia grinned back, unashamedly crying, then she abandoned all pretence of control and flung her arms round the other girl. "He's going to be okay!" she screeched again, and Faith didn't even care that she had nearly been deafened. Cordelia released her, and went back to hugging Gunn. "Everything's going to back to normal now!" and she favoured Fred with another damp smile. 

Back to normal. 

The words echoed through Faith's mind, and she took an awkward step back. Normal was Angel Investigations. Normal was bickering with Cordy and organising filing cabinets. 

Normal wasn't Faith. 

Normal wasn't being stabbed almost to death. 

Normal wasn't lying there, bleeding, with no one knowing what to do. 

She backed away further, then turned and ran back upstairs. She was almost to her room, when she ran into someone. Lorne. Green-assed demon who could read auras. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, then remembered. Connor. The baby was back at the Hyperion now, and since Angel was at the hospital, Lorne had volunteered - or perhaps it was more a case of having _been_ volunteered - for babysitting duties. She made to go past, then stopped, hesitated. Lorne looked at her for a moment, then his gaze sharpened. Faith took a deep breath, then: 

And when you look in my eyes  
Please know my heart is in your hands  
It's nothing that I understand, but when in your arms  
You have complete power over me  
So be gentle if you please, 'cause  
Your hands are in my hair, but my heart is in your teeth  
And it makes me want to make you near me always 

"You _are_ at a crossroads, aren't you?" Faith said nothing, but the sheen in her eyes (not to mention the pretty strong vibes coming off her) was enough to tell all Lorne he needed to know. "Follow your heart, angel-face. That's all you have to do." He smiled at her, then walked away, down the stairs to the foyer, where Faith could still hear the others. 

"Follow your heart." She knew what she wanted, but was that really following her heart? Or was her heart telling her what her head knew but didn't want to acknowledge? Faith entered her room, and closed the door behind her. Sitting on her bed, she pulled The Chronicles out, and stared at the leather-bound book. Eventually, she placed it on the bedside table. A knock sounded at the door, and she jumped. 

"Faith, it's me." Cordelia's voice came through the door. "We're heading down to the hospital. You coming?" Faith took a deep breath, then exhaled shakily. 

"Sure, I-I'll be right with you. Don't bother waiting - I'll catch up at the hospital." 

"Okay, sure." Cordelia walked away, and Faith waited until the sound of her footsteps had died away completely. 

Then she opened her bag and started to pack. In between the tears, she comforted herself that this was the right thing to do. Everything was back to normal now. 

She didn't belong in normal. 

*** *** *** 

Okay, I could be really mean and leave you hanging, but I'm nice, so I won't. This _isn't_ the end - there's another chapter coming soon, and then (three cheers please) I start on the sequel which will hopefully advance all the relationships concerned as well as tie up a lot of loose ends. 


	38. Enough Guilt to Float a Ship

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Thanks again for all reviews. Diane: I had no idea that Americans don't say "rang" in that context. How bizarre! Oscar Wilde really got it right! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Eight - Enough Guilt to Float a Ship**

Lorne faced the accusing row of people, and gulped uncomfortably. He felt an urge to issue a scarily heartfelt "Don't shoot the messenger!", but was afraid speech was not a good idea at the moment. 

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Unusually, it wasn't Cordelia, but Wesley, looking pale and, frankly, crappy as hell, easing himself up on one elbow, despite the concerned looks he was suddenly getting from the others. 

"Um, Wes…" He ignored Gunn, and targeted Lorne. 

"Gone where?" 

"That's kind of the point, Wesley. I don't know." As an answer, it wasn't exactly satisfactory, and he raised a hand defensively. "Jeez, I don't know, okay? Look, everyone was all happy happy on account of Wesley-" he broke off to flash a grin at the man in the bed - "and then Faith was walking past and…okay, so this was weird, I admit. She sang." 

"Faith doesn't sing," contradicted Cordelia definitely. Lorne raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Hey, she sang, okay? Anyway, mucho confusion - think Julie Andrew half way through Sound of Music. So I just told her…" 

"Told her what?" demanded Cordelia. "God, Lorne, will you just stop reading people's auras already?" 

"I _told_ her, Miss Smarty Pants, to follow her heart. She _knew_ what she wanted, which, if you must know, was to stay. So, no, I have no idea where she is." 

"Oh God!" At that despairing utterance, the team clustered round Wesley. Their initial jubilation at Wesley's awakening (which had materialised in the form of demented smiling and general joie-de-vivre-ness in the hospital room until a passing nurse had arrived and put a stop to it with a well-placed frown) had been dampened by Lorne's news: Faith was gone. And now it looked as if Wesley would be angst-ridden and… Wesley laughed ruefully. 

"Unfortunately, Lorne, you failed to take into account Faith's all too well developed sense of self-sacrifice. I think it must be a slayer thing, which would make sense given the nature of their calling. I wonder if anyone's looked into this; it might make an interesting paper." Doped up in pain medication, Wesley was off on a tangent, and the others looked at him affectionately until a gentle cough from Angel returned him to the matter at hand. "Right. Faith." His smile disappeared. "I should have thought of this - you said the police found a dead man at the warehouse?" The question was directed at Angel, but it was Gunn who answered. 

"Stuffed in a meat locked; stabbed in the gut. Nasty. A whole lot of blood. Was it…?" 

"Not me. Faith." 

"Oh. _Oh!_" They turned to Cordelia. "That's really not good, is it?" 

"She's killed someone." Angel stated calmly. "A human. That's never good." 

"And with Faith still trying to come to terms with what she did before… Plus, she probably feels that what happened to me is also her fault, since I was coming to rescue her." Wesley stopped, noticing the guilty look on Angel's face. "Angel-" 

"No, I know, Wesley. I messed up; I should never have gone off like that with Faith out on a limb. You were right, what you said back then. I should have thought." 

"Jeez, what is it with you guys and guilt? If I may remind you, it was Wolfram & Hart who kidnapped Faith, and one of their men who stabbed Wesley. If we're having blame here, let's at least put it where it belongs." There was a moment of silence as Angel and Wesley, the two worst offenders on the guilt front absorbed this, then Wesley continued. 

"The fact remains that Faith is out there, feeling responsible for a whole lot of violence. Damn! I should have realised that she'd go off like this, I should have been more prepared…" 

"Um, Wes? Unconscious much?" Wesley ignored Cordelia, which she took in her stride. He tried to sit up, and failed miserably, to the concerns of everyone around him. He closed his eyes in frustration, then turned to Angel. 

"Can you find her?" Angel nodded, his face sober. 

"Do you want me to bring her back?" Wesley thought for a moment, then reluctantly shook his head. 

"No. I can't talk to her like this. All she'll see is blood and… Keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't disappear." 


	39. Running Away Again

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Thanks again for all reviews. Syn: I've completely stolen your crappy waitress job for Faith! 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Thirty-Nine - Running Away Again**

Four dollars thirty-two, four dollars forty-two, four dollars forty-three. Faith stared at the small pile of change she had just counted out, and sighed. Heck, she'd made more than that in tips when she had been thirteen and serving popcorn at the local (now defunct) drive-in. She lay back, gazing blindly and the water-marked ceiling. Well, this is it, Faith, she thought to herself. Back in crap motel land once again. She rolled over onto her stomach, and fiddled idly with the bed cover. It was orange and decidedly unattractive, and a previous occupant of the room had spilled coffee all down one side. 

It was over a month since she had left the Hyperion, since she had walked through the double glass doors without a backward glance. It had been the right thing to do, she was sure of it. She was dangerous; no matter what Wesley had said, she knew that violence was a part of her that could spiral out of control at any point. And it was so scary, to look at someone, to look at Wes, or Cordelia and know that, one day, in one moment, you could hurt them. To be with people you trusted, who you wanted to be a part of your life, but to know that it couldn't happen. 

Faith sighed again, rolling over restlessly. It was very simple. She would just get a job, get somewhere to live, and slay the rest of the time. She didn't have to have other people around to do what she was born to do. And every day, she would try to keep control of herself. Not let it happen again. Unwillingly, her mind wandered back to that day in the warehouse… 

…Wesley, lying there, his eyes fluttering closed as the blood spilled over her hand… 

…the knife sinking deep into soft human flesh, life flickering away… 

…blood on her hands, blood that stayed no matter how she scrubbed… 

No! She wouldn't let it happen again. No one would be responsible for her, no one would be put on the line for her. And she would never kill anyone again. She would start a new life, and try and put the blood behind her. 

You keep telling yourself that, girl. Faith closed her eyes in irritation, trying to will away the derisive voice in her head. It didn't work. You want to start a new life, but you're living in the same motel you were in when Wesley came after you. You don't want to have anyone waiting for you, but you're sitting here every day waiting for… 

She was waiting for Wesley. Waiting for him to come and rescue her again, waiting for him to come and smile that patient smile and tell her it didn't matter, that he trusted her and wanted her to come back. To come home. 

"Fuck, I'm pathetic!" Faith jumped up, and grabbed her bag, putting her scant belongings in it with more speed than care. She slammed closed a drawer, pulled on her jacket, looked around. Shook her head. This was it, she had to start anew. She couldn't wait for someone else to decide how her life was going to be. 

*** *** *** 

The bus station was dark, damp, and, frankly, grotty. Faith's face was a picture of distaste as she bought a ticket for as far away as she could afford, and tried to shake off the feeling that someone was following her. Paranoia was a bitch. She had felt that she was being followed for weeks now, and she hadn't seen anybody. It was beginning to piss her off, and she determinedly ignored the pricking in the back of her neck. 

Clutching her ticket for Des Moines in her hand - after all, Iowa was as good a place as any - Faith wandered over to correct stop and sat down, ignoring the inebriated leer of the man on the seat next to hers. Half an hour later, she was still waiting, and the man was still leering, though three cans of beer had increased the inebriation factor. 

"Running away again, Faith?" 


	40. Coming Home

**YELLOW BRICK ROAD**

By: Lisette (lisette@chaletian.co.uk) 

Rating: PG-13 so far - might change later on. 

Distribution: Want, take, have. Just e-mail me first. 

Summary: Faith is released from prison - but there's a catch. 

Feedback: God, please. 

Angel, Buffy, the whole lot, belong to JW, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who officially owns them. I don't. Big surprise. 

Okay, a few notes. Firstly, I haven't seen any of season 3 yet, though I know vaguely what happens. So, definitely after "Billy", and Fred and Gunn are getting with the happy, but "WITW" never happened. 

Thanks again for all reviews. 

*** *** *** 

**Chapter Forty - Coming Home**

"Go away." 

"Why?" 

"I - I don't want to see you." 

"That's funny. I was under the impression that I was your watcher." 

"I don't need a watcher." 

"That's not what you said before." 

"I don't need anyone." 

"You need me." 

"I don't -" 

"You need all of us." There was a pause. 

"You almost died. You were bleeding to death. There was nothing I could do, and it was my fault." Wesley looked at her, his heart breaking for what he knew she was feeling. But sympathy was not going to work with Faith. Not in this. 

"So I nearly died. Big deal, as Cordelia would say. It's hardly the first time." Faith looked up at him, pleading with him to understand. 

"Wesley, it…I - I'm the _slayer_. My life is one long danger fest. I - I can't face it if you're going to get hurt." 

"Faith, I assure you, I am more than capable of getting hurt under my own steam. I _am_ the head of Angel Investigations, remember? You're not the only one in the fight against evil." 

"Wesley, I understand that you…" 

"No, Faith, you don't understand anything. This is the life I have chosen. I _want_ to be doing these things. I put my life in danger for you, yes, but I would do the same for anyone else, because that's the person I am, and that's the path I've decided to take. So whether you stay or you go, I will probably get hurt again." 

"But not by me." 

"Faith-" She whirled away from him, her breathing agitated. Then she turned and faced him. 

"I couldn't stand it, don't you understand? The possibility that I might hurt you. I saw you lying there, and all I could think was I _did_ that. Oh, I didn't make the cut, but… I _have_ hurt you before. More than once. And the thought that I might do it again is killing me." She was crying, all the pain and worry of the last month spilling out, mixed with the relief at seeing him standing there. She had known he was all right, had called the hospital more than once to find out, but she hadn't seen him. And now he was there, offering her what she wanted, and she couldn't take it. 

"Faith, you have to-" Wesley approached her, his hands on her shoulders, but she pushed him away. 

"No! Just go away, Wesley!" She shoved harder, and half turned, blinded by the hot tears in her eyes, so she wasn't ready for the body that slammed into hers, pushing her hard against the wall of the bus shelter. 

"Grow up, Faith! We're all in this together; you, me…Angel, Cordelia, Buffy, Giles. We're all fighting the same fight, and we have stick together. You belong with us, so cut the crap about not needing anyone, about being a danger to us. Our lives _are_ dangerous because of what we are, what we do. You can't back away every time you might become involved with people. You can't live in a vacuum. 

"Come home, Faith." 

*** *** *** 

In Angel's car, four pairs of eyes watched the couple in the bus shelter anxiously. 

"He is so going to pop his stitches," muttered Cordelia, and Angel peered at Wesley more closely. 

"You think?" 

"Oh yeah." 

"You think it'll work?" The query came from Gunn, and Cordy gave him a disbelieving look. 

"With Wes on the case? Of course it'll work. He - Hey, look! They're coming." 

"Shit!" There was a frantic scuffling as the four of them tried to make it appear that they hadn't been glued to the scene unfolding a hundred yards away. The car door opened. 

"Hey, Faith," Cordelia offered nonchalantly. 

"Cordelia." There was a moment of silence, and the six occupants of the car sat, the uncomfortable tension that came with sentiments unexpressed filling the small space. Finally, Gunn broke the disquiet. 

"So, we're all up for tacos, right?" 

THE END 

*** *** *** 

Wahey! And I'm done! Thanks for all the encouragement everyone has offered whilst I wrote this. And look out for the sequel coming soon! Lisette x 


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